Life's Little Dilemmas Chapter 3 Plus Illustration

 

Below is Chapter 3 of Life’s Little Dilemmas. As we all know life can be difficult at the best of times but Covid has really put the tin hat on it for most and after almost a year of lockdowns of one sort or another, foundations are being stress tested and cracks are beginning to appear. Hopefully these vaccines whenever we get them  will work and we may return to something approaching normalcy – whatever that means. Right now I’d settle for having a quiet beer in a bar.

It’s been over 3 months since the last chapter –apologies that’s far too long but hopefully St Jude’s amused you in the intervening period.  I’ve been having difficulty in concentrating even though a big chunk of this was written in Nov, so thank you for your patience.

The gist of the story so far is covered a few paragraphs in so you won’t have to reread the last chapter but I omitted the part where our hero (because he needed money) has developed breasts from a drug trial. It finished with an unexpected knock on the front door with William dressed s a maid in the hallway.  

My thanks and gratitude as always to those who were supportive enough to tick the ‘more’ box and especially those who left a comment –believe me,it means a lot to know people actually like the material I post. Hopefully you will enjoy this piece also.

Take care of yourselves, family and friends

Carrie

PS I know I said I'd change the illustration at the top before Christmas but events overtook me it will be done in the next day or two.

Life’s Little Dilemmas

Chapter 3

By

CarrieP

 

When ideas are confronted with reality there will always be surprises.

 

S

urprises can be pleasant or nasty, fortuitous or unfavourable, disconcerting or comforting but by their nature they usually arrive when one least expects them. As a rule I am not enthusiastic at the idea of being taken by surprise but of course like every rule there are exceptions.

 By far the most surprising of several surprises, a clumsy phrase I know but accurate nonetheless, involved my recent encounter with a young man whereby a sequence of events was put in train that resolved my current servant problem, namely the recruitment of a new housemaid. The initial surprise was that the young man, William, actually applied for the position obviously in the full knowledge that such a post is by definition exclusively occupied by a female. Equally surprising was that I not only agreed to this strange arrangement but actively encouraged it. Bizarre as this may seem once I had given it some consideration I thought it a splendid idea after all how many women could say they had transformed a male into a female and even better a servant girl at that? Of course there have been many situations both in business and socially where some women myself included have held sway over males, usually officious, opinionated dreadful men who quickly come to regret their impertinence,

However never have I contemplated feminising one. Until now that is.

Ah yes, life really is full of surprises but I digress and will bring you up to date on just how the story unfolded.

In the hallway of my home I had now standing in front of me my new domestic- William- dressed in the smart and traditional morning uniform of a housemaid. A grey dress over which was a very prim and formal starched white linen apron, the straps of which went over his shoulders and were tied in a large bow, a frilled cap completed the ensemble. His face naturally delicate was made prettier by his light make-up which I had applied earlier. Make-up is usually discouraged in servant girls but I felt it necessary in this case and it did indeed lend him a surprising degree of femininity. Despite displaying a mixture of attractiveness and timidity, which I find adorable, he somehow also managed to convey a sense of shame which given his circumstances I suppose was only to be expected. After all a male in a dress could not legitimately be called a man and if exposed would undoubtedly be subjected to mockery and laughter. Being dressed as a housemaid would only add an extra layer of derision and ridicule however I suppose that really is none of my concern. I also suspect a contributing factor to his downcast countenance was the tight and restrictive high-waisted girdle that I had insisted he wear. A necessary requirement as such a formidable garment will not only give him a womanly shape but it will have the added benefit of  as allowing him to experience what we women must endure on a daily basis.

  I had hoped that I would have had at least a few hours to tutor him in the fundamentals of femininity but an unexpected caller at the front door made this impossible. Inspecting the well groomed and conventionally attired maid in front of me I attempted to be as objective as possible in determining whether there was sufficient femininity about his appearance to succeed in this subterfuge. The face was more charming than beautiful and his figure as a result of his new corsetry did give him a waist and provided him with vaguely girlish hips. The girdle was long enough to restrict his gait so unless he told this visitor he was a young man I felt reasonably confident my unannounced guest would not immediately guess my maid was male. Another clearly irritated knock on the door focused my mind and making a slight adjustment to his cap I assured him he would pass muster and gestured to him to open the door and ensure he curtsied. After a little indecision on his part which unfortunately necessitated the threat of a cane to that back of his legs secured his obedience and he moved quickly to the door. He tried one last pleading glance at me but I remained resolute and he eventually succumbed to the inevitable and opened the door.

“And about time.” the clearly exasperated and elegantly attired figure snapped announcing the arrival of Eleanor Forsythe, one of my closest friends. As she brushed past in a whirl of expensive perfume and even more expensive fur my new maid who was so taken aback by her entrance stood open mouthed and forgetting to curtsy.

“Eleanor.” I greeted her a tad nervously “Such a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until next week.”

“Oh you know me Felicia darling, the country bores me after a few days.” she said, kissing me on both cheeks and embracing me so tightly our breasts nuzzled together in a most pleasant squeeze. The sensation was not lost on Eleanor and she couldn’t resist kissing me lightly on the lips and added with her usual mischievous smile “I felt the need for a little excitement. Chasing after a fox all over the countryside for hours on one of my aunt’s ghastly horses can become tiresome quite quickly.”

Suddenly becoming aware of a third party she turned her full attention to the obviously anxious maid.

“You never told me you engaged a new girl, darling.” she directed her comment to me but her grey eyes lingered on William making no pretence of examining him head to toe.

Her inspection lasted merely seconds but I could clearly see from the poor lad’s face it seemed like hours.

“A pretty little thing.” she finally delivered her verdict in a breezy tone and as was her wont however her gaze continued to loiter on the girlish outline achieved by his girdle and brassiere and with a gleam in her eye she smiled at William and added “An improvement on your last girl, what was her name…”

“Sarah.” I reminded her.

“Ah yes, Sarah.” Eleanor said adding in her usual nonchalant manner “Although she did have a nice bosom.”

William began anxiously fingering the skirt of his uniform in a manner that did not go unnoticed.

“Oh not that yours isn’t…ah…”she laughed lightly searching for an appropriate word as her extended fingers grazed gently across his slightly protruding girlish breasts before eventually settling on the most appropriate word she could think of “…agreeable.”

The facial expressions on my new maid’s face appeared to fluctuate between panic at Eleanor’s increasing scrutiny and embarrassment at her backhanded compliments regarding his figure and attractiveness. She has always enjoyed teasing new servants but for a moment I thought the unfortunate young man was going to faint.

“When you’ve quite finished with your appraisal of my new housemaid,” I intervened a little testily before William succumbed to a fit of the vapours “perhaps you would join me in the drawing room.”

“Don’t worry darling.” she answered me although her eyes were still fixed on William as she slipped off her coat and handed it to him “ As you are aware I need a second maid but I promise I won’t steal her away from you. Unless of course she wants to leave, do you my girl?”

I thought I saw his legs wobble slightly as he took her coat, his eyes pleading for an intervention.

“Enough Eleanor!” I responded, again a little sharply and trying to distract her  slipped my arm into hers and moved her towards the drawing room door “Now come tell me all about your dreadful sojourn to the countryside and that poor horse that had the misfortune to have you riding him.”

“It was a gelding.” she snorted and over her shoulder I could see William pale slightly as she continued with a rather coarse laugh “The only type of male I would associate with.”

As we turned towards the drawing room I glanced  back at the clearly perturbed statue like figure holding Eleanor’s coat, I instructed him as much with my facial expression  as with my voice “After you hang up Miss Forsythe’s coat proceed to the kitchen and I’ll ring the bell  when I need you.”

Settling myself on the sofa I could not but help noticing the way Eleanor gingerly lowered herself next to me.

“Breaking in my new corselette.” she explained with a mournful sigh and a resigned look as she adjusted the hem of her skirt over her knee before complaining rhetorically “Why ever do we put up with these ghastly foundations?”

 “Oh I think we both know the answer to that question?” I replied patting her on the knee.

“Vanity, yes I know, and I suppose the discomfort is worth it...” she laughed “But it is so annoyingly tight.”

“They always are at first, we all know that.” I smiled empathically “But just look what it has done for your figure, you look absolutely wonderful.”

“Yes I suppose the end does justify the means.” she replied and in the way women do when alone with each other she slipped her hand briefly inside her blouse and tugged gently at the cups of her corselette to adjust them to her satisfaction before continuing “A little nuisance is worth enduring to be able to fit into this skirt. And speaking of discomfort, your new maid looks a little anguished. She’s a peculiar thing, pretty enough in an odd way I suppose but a little ungainly, almost as if she’s uneasy in her own skin.”

“Oh she’s new to domestic service.”  I said truthfully “And you know how it is with girls that enter service late they find it difficult to adjust to their new lives. After a week’s training he will be as proficient as any of Mother’s housemaids.”

“He?” Eleanor laughed, immediately pouncing on my momentary lapse “The girl may not be a beauty, perhaps does look a little boyish and is no doubt somewhat gauche but describing her as a ‘he’ is a little harsh, darling, don’t you think?”

“A slip of the tongue.” I corrected myself. “I had a brief encounter with a young man earlier and it must have distracted me.

“Yes, given how irritating and imbecilic they are I suppose I can understand how a brush that ghastly sex would be a little disconcerting.” she replied to my relief “Although I do remember some years ago your mother telling me about when she was at her finishing school the headmistress accepted a number of males. It appears they were the unruly and rebellious sons of mothers who wished to have their behaviour modified and act in a more obedient and deferential manner to ladies in general and their mothers in particular.”

“Yes now that you mention it I do seem to recall her telling me a similar tale.” I answered hoping she would not continue this story further.

Of course I was only too well aware that Mother was very fond of recounting tales from this period of her life to her inner circle of friends which Eleanor and her own mother had been a part of for as long as I remember. Luckily her new corselette was a more pressing issue.

With a vaguely pained expression she rose from the sofa and moved to the fireplace ostensibly to check her hair and make-up but I strongly suspect it had more to do with the discomforting tight embrace of her new foundation wear. Although she would never admit it, Eleanor can be a little vain and I suspect she deliberately chose a corselette at least a size too small. As we all know corsetry although necessary can be quite uncomfortable at the best of times and on occasion I too have resorted to such measures so naturally I can empathise with the hardship she was undergoing.

“Some tea I think.” she decided unilaterally, a little to my irritation but as always I disguised it reasonably well  and before I could stop her she had pulled the cord for the servants’ bell, adding a little sarcastically as she refreshed her lipstick “I hope your new girl has enough wit about her to manage such a simple task.”

I had hoped Eleanor’s visit would be very brief and her encounter with my new maid would be her only one for at least a week until I had a reasonable amount of time to train him properly but her insistence on taking tea put paid to that particular plan. My hope was he would have composed himself a little prior to hearing the servants’ bell and taken confidence in the fact that this visitor had not detected his, or should I say our, secret. As he was expecting me to summon him at some stage he should not be too surprised when the bell did eventually ring.  I expected he understood that if he did not make an appearance I would have to explain to my guest why my maid did not answer her bell. Although this was such an unusual situation I could not be sure of how he would react.

Patience is not one of Eleanor’s strong suits and within thirty seconds she was on the verge of ringing the bell a second time, I tried to distract her with a little gossip about mutual friends which thankfully worked. Luckily a few moments later a timid knock at the door announced the maid’s arrival and an alarmed face peered around the door. I breathed a sigh of relief  but it was another second or two before the rest of the body reluctantly emerged as if propelled by some invisible force prodding it.

Under Eleanor’s somewhat irritated gaze the figure nervously made its way in what could only be kindly described as an awkward, ponderous motion to where I sat. It was a little like watching a newborn foal take its first unsteady steps.

“You rang Madam.” William said meekly, thankfully remembering mistress- maid etiquette. His eyes clearly conveying his deep anxiety he suddenly recognised the signal my raised eyebrows transmitted and he curtsied.

“It certainly took you long enough girl.” Eleanor said in a sharp tone. “And straighten up for heaven’s sake you’re walking like a bricklayer.”

Being only too well aware that the poor boy’s state of mind was quite fragile and he was still coming to terms with his new circumstances, I was concerned that Eleanor’s rebuke may be just enough to induce sudden panic and a subsequent escape. His face once again relayed his mounting fear and I was quite concerned my plans for him could easily be derailed at this early stage by Eleanor’s brusque manner. I had to act and decided reassurance and a kind word would be the best course of action.

“Eleanor!” I was forced once more to admonish her and for William’s benefit in a tone that left little doubt as to the vexation I felt at her criticism of my servant. “The girl is new to domestic service please try to be a little more tolerant.”

“Oh Felicia darling, you are far too protective of your girls.” she retorted, a little peeved by my intervention on William’s behalf but after seeing the frightened doe-like expression on his face her voice softened and she conceded “But I suppose I am a little a little tense.”

“Time of the month?” I said.

She nodded her confirmation and forced a smile as she took a step closer to him,

“Just for these few days every month I wish I was a male. They get away with so much.” she lamented like many of us  do at this time  before turning to the uniformed figure and by way of explanation or perhaps even a half hearted apology added with a sardonic smile, ”I suppose we all get a little grumpy at this ghastly time. Even servant girls, I imagine. Isn’t that so, my girl?”

I didn’t know which was more amusing, Eleanor reflecting on her menstrual cycle to what she considered a mere housemaid or the consternation William was experiencing ,his face growing paler as he tried to formulate a response. His eyes caught mine and I nodded discretely.

“Ah… umm…y…yes… Miss.” he eventually managed to scramble a reply and curtsied in what I can only presume was an attempt to both ingratiate himself with my guest and to convince her of his newly assumed sex.

His pallor did not go unnoticed by Eleanor either.

“Of course … I understand.” she said in an almost conspiratorial tone and her voice dropped and became more sympathetic “We are both close to having our little visitor I suspect. Have you started yet?

“Ah…emm…ah…I…” he spluttered his face becoming paler.

“No need to be embarrassed my girl.” she continued as I lurched between suppressing laughterand praying he would not faint. Eleanor, reaching into her purse retrieved a small, but to any woman, unmistakeable item and handed it to him. “Try this, one of my friends came up with this idea, it does not need a belt or safety pins to hold in place. I’m not sure they will take off so to speak but I do find them extremely good and very absorbent. You can put it on whilst you’re preparing the tea. They are a little too bulky but simple to use and perhaps a little awkward to fit first time.”

William just stood there, speechless and rooted to the spot, his expression oscillating somewhere between disbelief and mild trauma. I heard a slight, barely audible whimper which Eleanor thankfully seemed to miss and knew I had to intervene. However she did note his bewildered and dazed look and laughed,

“Maybe I should fix it in place for you.”

I thought I saw his knees wobble.

“Have you lost your tongue, William?” I said tersely without thinking and before I had time to correct the lapse Eleanor pounced.

“William!” she repeated in a tone I knew was bordering on the suspicious and which she immediately confirmed in the manner her eyes were drawn to the maid.

“Silly me, I meant Wilhelmina, of course” I replied immediately “The young man I encountered earlier must still be on my mind.”

The look on Eleanor’s face grew even more quizzical, while William’s took on one of rising alarm.

“Run along Wilhelmina.” I delivered he order with a little too much haste and a wave of my hand but panic seemed to prevent any movement as he remained motionless still clutching the sanitary pad Eleanor had given him.  In a slightly louder voice and accompanied by unmistakable facial signals I added “And don’t forget utilise the little…ahem… gift Miss Forsythe has given you.”

The tone of my voice appeared to rouse him although he did look quite befuddled and turning to leave he stopped almost as if some bell inside his head rang out a reminder he suddenly and rather clumsily swung around and bobbed a curtsy before quickly darting for the safety of the door. From the expression on Eleanor’s face as her eyes followed him I sensed that there would be some awkward questions. The thought crossed my mind that he may decide to attempt an escape but dismissed this immediately as a vision sprang into mind’s eye of his hand reaching for the front door only for him to realise he was wearing a maid’s uniform.

No, I thought, as I smoothed my skirt to await Eleanor’s interrogation. Although he may have considered fleeing he is now safely in the kitchen desperately trying to compose himself. I suspect once he has done so Eleanor’s high-handed manner will compel him to somehow comply with her suggestion and fit the sanitary pad into his girdle.

I had to suppress my laughter at the thought of him trying to fix such an article into his new foundation wear. Not the most dignified of undertakings at the best of times.

Will he adhere to her instructions? I wondered silently.

“Well, I must say Felicia.” Eleanor began returning her attention to me as the door closed behind the departing maid, “A most baffling state of affairs, what on earth is going on?”

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” I replied nonchalantly as I could and picking up the latest edition of Vogue I casually leafed through it.

“Don’t be coy.” she continued, her voice now taking on an almost inquisitorial tone. “Your new girl?”

“What about her?” I replied my eyes still on the magazine but Eleanor, as usual, is not easily put off. I cursed myself for my incredibly stupid lack of awareness.

“Well for one thing, she is the one of the most ungainly girls I have ever encountered including those dreadful hockey girls we knew at school. In fact she makes them look like Bolshoi ballerinas” she said, her beautiful large eyes searching mine for clues. “For another, she didn’t appear to know what a sanitary pad was.”

“Emm… I…”I faltered momentarily allowing her to raise my faux pas once more. “Well you said it was a new type, it probably confused her.”

“Mmm…” she didn’t sound convinced, before throwing down another challenge “And addressing her as… William?”

“A mere slip of the tongue. That’s all.” I answered as casually as I could and tried to deflect adding in an indifferent tone “By the way, have you seen the Spring Collection from Paris? Dior and Balmain have some wonderful creations.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake Felicia, what on earth is going on?” Eleanor retorted evidently quite sceptical by my response and ignoring my attempt at diversion. Suddenly and to my horror I noticed her eyes drawn to one of the chairs close to the large bay window and cursed myself once more as she stood and moved across the room.

“And what have we here?” she declared holding up the coat I had told William to remove but had forgotten he had left it on the chair. Fixing me with those grey eyes of hers she snorted sarcastically, “I suppose there is a plausible explanation for a man’s coat and hat residing in your drawing room.”

Before I could even begin to concoct some vaguely credible excuse she immediately swooped on my hesitancy and sniggered,

“And I would love to hear it, darling.”

A moment or two passed as I thought about fabricating some story about the coat’s owner helping me to repair something or other, or perhaps assisting me with some heavy parcels but I knew Eleanor would wish to see evidence of such an enterprise.

Felicia darling,” Eleanor didn’t wait for my reply, not that I had anything remotely resembling a plausible explanation “As I have already asked, what on earth is going on?”

                                          ************************

Stepping into the hallway from the drawing room William could feel a weakness at his knees and his heart thumping in his chest, after closing the door behind him he felt a little light headed. Nevertheless despite this anxiety he instinctively knew he should remain still and attempt to gather his thoughts. His first reaction was to turn towards the front door and flee however the reflection in the large mirror opposite quickly dissuaded him of the idea. He instantly understood that the primly uniformed housemaid looking back at him would not only look distinctly out of place in a busy city street but would surely attract the unwanted attention of passers-by. Visions of people pointing and laughing at him flashed into his brain, he knew it would not take long for his true sex to be discovered and the undoubted subsequent involvement of the police. He could be arrested and brought to court, perhaps even a prison sentence, the prospect was frightening. Even if he escaped prison the ensuing publicity would render hopeless any prospect of returning to some form meaningful employment. How could he hope to recover from such a scandal? His life would be ruined.

He was trapped.

Slowly the oxygen began returning to his brain, realising escape was out of the question and hiding in his room was not an option as it would only exacerbate his problems he swallowed hard and he began to move down the spacious tiled hallway toward the kitchen. The unfamiliar brushing of the satin slip he now wore against the equally peculiar sensation of his silk stockined thighs immediately struck him of just how ensnared he now was. He tried to avoid glancing at yet another mirror as he approached the entrance to the kitchen but the ghastly fascination was too much and catching his reflection he gasped. And although horrified at the image he nevertheless had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that at first glance he appeared more female than male

Although not the first time he had seen his new and altered appearance he remained nonetheless bewildered, unable to decide whether to be relieved at not immediately betraying his true sex or disgusted at the feminine figure he now resembled.  His eyes were drawn to the breasts he had previously kept tightly and secretly bound, they now stood proud supported by Miss Goodbody’s brassiere, his girdled waist exaggerated his hips giving him a slight yet distinctive girlish shape. Finally dragging his eyes from the mirror he entered the kitchen and suddenly realising he was holding a soft length of cotton padded material his eyes widened in horror. The recognition of what the item represented and what was expected of him left him close to tears.

“Surely Miss Forsythe would never check whether I actually…”he murmured out loud, unable to bring himself to complete the sentence.

Perhaps…, a measured voice answered from the fog of confusion inside his head, but have we not witnessed the type of woman she is? Could we really put it past her? Such an authoritative presence, the kind of woman who demands her every instruction is carried out to the letter.

“But…”the empty room echoed to his forlorn voice as he stared at the uniquely feminine article “this!”

She views us as female and believes she is being helpful and kind. What happens if she insists on checking?

“Surely…she would never…”he blurted

But what if she does? the voice quickly and forcefully interrupted Everything will be ruined, we will be exposed, lose everything, the salary, the accommodation, the possibility of a position with the Marchioness of Dunraven.

The young man remained silent, desperately trying to formulate a reasonable response but could not. All that he had heard was true. Being dressed as a girl, employed as a housemaid and required to wear such a humiliating uniform was deeply and excruciatingly shameful but the alternative was penury and a dreadfully uncertain future. Still, the question loomed large. Could the lure of a salary beyond his wildest expectations and lavish lodgings justify such an ignoble and cowardly desertion of his masculinity?

You know quite well what awaits us if don’t comply, the voice whispered gravely. Do it now before Miss Goodbody rings for tea. Otherwise…

In a trance like state he lifted the uniform’s heavy lined skirt and starched apron and underneath his satin slip his hands fumbled for the top of the tight girdle which he managed with the greatest difficulty to tug down. With fumbling and shaking hands not to mention having no idea where to position the article he eventually managed to settle the pad into the only place he could think of- the girdle’s gusset.

Probably better if our member is tucked back tightly between the legs, the voice helpfully suggested, it will ensure there is no unsightly bulge just in case Miss Forsythe actually checks. I believe girls are quite sleek in this area, it would not do to have a protrusion no matter how small in such a place.

So immersed in this delicate operation he complied without hesitation and after fixing the pad as best he could he manfully drew the girdle up his torso, whimpering quietly as it compressed his middle once more in its nylon and satin grip.

His hand passed over the front of the girdle and he almost gasped out loud as he failed to find any hint of his sexual organ. It helped of course that his anxiety had helped to minimise the offending organ.A quick glance confirmed the satin material contained no evidence of masculinity whatsoever.

No time to admire ourselves, he was told, now fix our slip in place and make sure the skirt and apron fall correctly. The last thing we want is to embarrass Miss Goodbody in front of her guest.

Dejected by the notion, that now even underneath his feminine clothing, there was no trace of his masculinity he nevertheless managed to shake this despondency and turned his attention to the task at hand. Satisfied his manhood was adequately concealed he adjusted his slip and skirt, he sighed and suddenly became aware of his surroundings and the reason he was there in the first place. He quickly crossed the kitchen floor and commenced to assemble the various items for the ladies’ refreshments. As he began to move about he immediately felt the strange and bulky presence between his legs and for a minute or two had to adjust his gait ever so slightly to accommodate the cumbersome item lodged in such a sensitive area. He tried to rid his mind of the humiliating position he found himself in but the alien object between his legs together with the unfamiliar feeling of air circulating around his lower limbs made this impossible.

It was becoming evident to him that his outward conversion to a female was accompanied by a similar transformation underneath his maid’s formal uniform, the strain of elastic against his skin and the gentle brush of his satin slip on the silk stockings attached to his tight garters were a constant reminder that he no longer resembled a member of the male sex. The constant clicking of heels echoing on the hard tiled floor merely reinforced this new shameful reality.

He tried to distract himself from his humiliating situation by busying himself with the chore to which he had been assigned but the peculiar feelings he was experiencing made this very difficult. The sudden jangling of the old fashioned servants’ bell startled him and he immediately banished these new physical sensations to the back of his mind. He knew he would be expected to appear in the drawing room within minutes. His hand trembled slightly as he poured the hot water into the teapot and had to compose himself before he lifted the tray.

Deep breaths, the voice quietly assured him. Don’t worry, you look every inch a servant girl. Keep your back straight and take short steps. Just remember you are dressed like a housemaid, now act like one.

 

                                               ************************

 

Hearing the soft knock on the door I reluctantly drew my lips away from Eleanor’s and feeling her hand gently squeeze my left breast I smiled and kissed her once more before reluctantly stepping away.  Taking a few moments to compose myself I adjusted my blouse and straightened my skirt before moving to the mirror over the fireplace where  I checked my appearance, freshened my lipstick and repositioned a few stray strands of hair.

“That colour really does suit you darling.” Eleanor said as she joined me and puckering her lips performed a similar action adding slyly, “I notice our new little servant girl is wearing the same colour. I wonder what else she’s wearing has a similar colour.”

“Eleanor!” I feigned mild offence at the remark as I fixed my jewelled barrette in place and catching her face in the mirror continued “Please behave. I don’t want to lose another maid so soon.”

I imagined the slight delay in answering the poor boy’s timid knock only increased his anxiety and finally satisfied I was presentable I issued the instruction.

“Enter.” I said in a clear commanding voice.

Eleanor and I monitored the progress of my new maid crossing the drawing room floor, his face fixed in concentration as he moved slowly and  to my surprise remarkably gracefully to where we now sat by the large bay window.  I was pleased to note that he had used the willow patterned china and had arranged the various items in a neat and precise fashion. It took me almost a week to teach Sarah my former housemaid how to organise a tea tray properly. This small but important point was not lost on Eleanor and she communicated her approval to me by an almost imperceptible arching of her eyebrows. I returned her gesture with an equally subtle nod of my head. Of course the poor boy was completely unaware of our admiration for his domestic skills as his entire focus was on ensuring he did not trip and lose the tray or its contents.

“Thank you Wilhelmina.” I said and from the corner of my eye noticed a smirk on Eleanor’s face.

“Most impressive.” Eleanor gushed in a voice that she managed to sound genuine but of course she could not leave it at that and added in a vaguely unsettling tone “For a girl new to domestic service.”

“Ah…emm… I…ah…thank you Miss.” he babbled incoherently but somehow recognising this was meant as a compliment he curtsied.

“Yes well done Wilhelmina.” I joined in to reassure the boy with a smile which seemed to ease his anxiety a little.

“Thank you Madam.” he answered and grateful for my approval he curtsied once more.

Eleanor watched him closely as he laid the various items on the table and from his nervous expression I could tell he was aware of this also.

“And tell me Wilhelmina,” Eleanor addressed him directly “Have you used my little gift?”

“Ah…I …err… I…”he stumbled with the answer as a vivid pink blush lit up his cheeks.

“Eleanor!” I protested, weakly I have to admit, “You are embarrassing the girl.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, we are all girls after all.” she declared and turned to William “Isn’t that right my dear.”

“Ah…I…”William continued to splutter

“These new pads can be a little tricky to fit the first time.” Eleanor said and although smiling her eyes locked onto his not allowing him to look away “Now lift your skirt so I can be sure you have positioned it properly.”

“But…I…please…it’s…”more incomprehensible stammering poured forth from his mouth.

I wondered what was going on in his mind and maybe Eleanor’s outrageous suggestion was the last straw. Of course even if he did such an attempt would be useless as while he was in the kitchen I took the precaution of locking the front door. One can never leave things like this to chance.

“Now, girl.”Eleanor snapped, her impatience quite evident.

Breathe and keep calm The voice inside counselled. The pad is fitted perfectly and our member is neatly tucked away. There is no evidence of masculinity. Remember you’re a servant girl and must do as you are told. Breathe and remain calm.

Perhaps it was shock, maybe the severe tone of Eleanor’s voice after all she can be extremely strict with her servants but I strongly suspect it was the vulnerability foisted on him by the mortification of being forced to wear female clothing. Whatever it was I keenly observed the consequences as his head dropped in abject humiliation and his hands slowly lifted first his skirt and then his slip to reveal the satin fronted girdle with delicate lace edging. I admired both but then I should, as they were mine and I do have excellent taste in lingerie and foundation wear.

“Closer, girl” Eleanor instructed her voice softer now but remaining authoritative nonetheless.

William seemed close to tears as he advanced slowly before coming to a halt in front of us his groin area level with our faces. His expression, a combination of fear and shame, silently pleaded with me as Eleanor moved closer to satisfy her curiosity. A pathetic yet sweet whimper escaped from his mouth as the back of her hand caressed the girdle’s heavy and wide satin panel.

“This is very like one of yours darling.” she said, her eyes not moving from the garment. “And the slip is the one I gave you for your birthday last year.”

I could see he had taken great care in not only affixing the feminine product but in concealing any obvious evidence of that disgusting male appendage. A casual visual inspection would suggest the region was female.

But Eleanor, as I knew only too well was anything but casual.

She looked up and smiled at him, her fingers still lightly stroking the satin panel.

“You are a very lucky girl,” she said softly although I’m certain he was not of the same opinion. Her fingers lingered a few seconds more before she added “To have such a considerate mistress. I do hope you are grateful.”

I suspected her referring to him as a girl in such close proximity calmed him somewhat as he nodded eagerly before answering in a voice that was a little higher and more feminine  than I expected.

“Oh…yes Miss… very lucky.”

Eleanor’s features imperceptibly morphed into an almost saintly expression and her mesmerising stare ensured his eyes remained latched firmly onto hers as she spoke softly,

“Now part your thighs like a good girl.”

She had done this to me on many an occasion so I knew that he felt almost compelled to obey her without a second thought and as his thighs slowly separated her hand slid gently between them and quietly nestled there. Such was her control over his emotions that although he remained silent and his facial expression did not reveal panic, his eyes told a different tale. Confusion, fear, shame and more besides, all spinning around inside that poor masculine brain of his and unable to communicate his fears by any means whatsoever. Another low whimper left his mouth and I guessed Eleanor had moved her fingers gently. She waited a few seconds for the moment to pass before repeating the procedure which naturally elicited the same result, only this time his mewling was more pronounced. Her hand remained for a few seconds longer and I perceived a slight tremble in his knees.  I suspect Eleanor detected this also and she reluctantly removed her hand but not before squeezing gently on the pad and smiled reassuringly at him. The last thing she wanted was a fainting episode. If he really was a girl I expect that by now he would be quite moist between the legs, what the condition of his male organ was I have no idea as the sanitary pad did an excellent job in secreting the vile object.

“I’m sure it’s a little cumbersome.” she said with a smile concluding his inspection “but so very necessary, isn’t that right, my dear?”

His brain still dazed and confused from her ministrations he found himself nodding in agreement. She gently eased the slip and skirt from his fingers and arranged them to her satisfaction around his knees before patting him gently on his tightly girdled buttocks.

“Now that was not so difficult, was it?” she continued smiling and waited for him to acknowledge it with another nod.

He looked blankly at me for direction.

“You may go Will…” I began before quickly correcting myself “…Wilhelmina, I will 

Before I could finish the sentence Eleanor interrupted me,

“Do you know darling,” she began, addressing me but her eyes remaining on the disoriented housemaid “Wilhelmina is really not a name for a servant girl it is far above her social station. I have an Aunt Wilhelmina, a formidable, imposing woman I doubt she would be impressed that your maid has the same name. Not only that, you have already referred to her as William on a number of occasions. It is far too overpowering a name for such a timid creature, we should really try to find something more suitable, more feminine.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked as I watched an expression of yet more disbelief creep into William’s face

“Oh I don’t know, Sarah… possibly Jane, Hilda perhaps.” she said looking at William for inspiration.

“My last maid was a Sarah.” I replied “I would prefer a change, Jane, a little too plain I think and Hilda…oh dear… so old fashioned.”

Just as I said this I noticed a little animation began to slowly steal back into William’s face and the poor dear suddenly began to realise yet another part of his identity was being taken away from him. Surely he must have realised I could not continue referring to him as William and Eleanor was right Wilhelmina is far too patrician a name for a housemaid, female or male. I felt a little sorry for him and suggested to Eleanor,

“Should we ask hi…” I faltered before recovering immediately “…her?”

“Ask a housemaid her opinion?” Eleanor dismissed my proposal out of hand with a laugh. “What would your mother say to that darling? No she is your servant and you can name her what you wish.”

“Isn’t that right my girl?” Eleanor once more fixed the pitiful figure with her steely stare, the unfortunate young man still probably having flashbacks from her inspection could only nod his agreement.

 

“Something traditional but not old fashioned.” Eleanor mused still concentrating on his face which clearly began to make William nervous once more. “Something with a pleasant sound, easy to remember and pronounce and in keeping with her personality, of course.”

“What about Nancy?” I said.

“Nancy!” Eleanor repeated a smile coming across her handsome face. “Perfect.”

“Nancy...”I smiled repeating the name and looked at the young man “Nancy the housemaid. Far better than Wilhelmina.”

“And more appropriate.” Eleanor said and turned her attention once more to the cheerless youth “Don’t you think…Nancy?”

Both of us were beaming at him and I could see the working of his brain behind his sad eyes telling him not to risk further humiliation or perhaps worse by disagreeing.  It was clear to me – and to him- he had little choice but he nevertheless tried in his pathetic manly way to plead with me.

“I..ah…but…”he bleated but seeing my eyes narrowing slightly he quickly came to his senses. Humiliation engulfing him, his eyes dropped to the floor as he answered Eleanor.

 “Yes Miss.” he murmured.

“You should really thank your mistress, girl.” Eleanor said a little sternly “After all it she gave you such a pretty name.”

“Thank…Thank you… Madam.” he managed to say and noticing Eleanor’s eyes on him curtsied.

“Now run along Nancy.” I said “I’ll ring when I need you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

St Jude's - Opportunity Knocks - A new story (sort of) with illustration

 This horrible disease is screwing up practically every country in the world but hopefully you, your family and friends are surviving and managing to get through it as best you can.

I'd begun another chapter of LLD and although almost half way through it I wasn't sure if I would finish it before Christmas. So I thought I'd write a very short piece about how our friend Karl Maria Von somebody or other was getting along in St Jude's( hopefully you'll remember that particular establishment). However I wanted to make it as short as possible, to make every word and sentence count, the idea was to limit it to 1200-1500 words  max.

No prizes for guessing how that plan worked out although I did manage to avoid several rabbit holes and kept in under 5k words- so it's short enough. I'll try to complete the LLD chapter as soon as I can but like a lot of people right now my concentration levels are not the best.

My thanks as always to everyone who gave  encouragement  and supported the blog by ticking the 'more' box and especially to those kind enough to leave a comment - I greatly appreciate it and it does mean a lot.

I  hope  you all have a really good Christmas, stay safe, and with a bit of luck next year will be a much better one. Couldn't be any worse I suppose - says he tempting fate.

Hopefully you'll enjoy the piece below. 

Take care

Carrie

PS The illustration at the top is an old one  but one of my favourites but some readers may not have seen it before. 'll try to get a new one done before Christmas but can't promise it right now.

St Jude’s: Opportunity Knocks

By

CarrieP

 

 

F

or a young gentleman, six am was an unearthly hour to rise. It wasn’t so long ago that this was the very time of day he would stumble through the door of his mother’s home from a night’s carousing with his friends in music halls, taverns or other such nefarious places. Much to his mother’s dismay and disgust would rarely awake before three pm.

Those occasions now seemed like a lifetime away but were in fact merely weeks although how many he could not quite recall. But that was then. Now, despite being wide awake and the whole day ahead of him he knew he had no time to dwell on his past life. In fact he had no time to linger on anything, to do so would detract from his busy working life.

One would expect a young man of his class and education rising at such a time to be engaged one of the esteemed professions, banking or the law, perhaps the military, maybe even some academic pursuit. However it would be extremely doubtful that anyone would correctly guess the young man’s current occupation. Although if one was to see the clothes he had dressed himself in his employment status would immediately become abundantly clear if not entirely puzzling. For instead of an impeccably tailored suit the young man wore a drab brown dress under which were two coarse petticoats a tight corset and in place of a gentleman’s top hat he wore an equally dreary off-white mob cap- the colourless dismal uniform of a lowly scullery maid.

To most people this would be an extremely unusual, some would say bizarre situation that this young man, Karl-Maria von Uttendorf, now found himself in. But to ladies of a certain social standing whose sons were in danger of succumbing to a life of decadence and debauchery it was a vital corrective if their offspring was to return to the straight and narrow.

The young man’s mother, Magdalena, Countess von Uttenddorf recently became aware of St. Jude’s Finishing School for Young Ladies where occasionally the reprobate sons of the upper classes were sent to have their dreadful behaviour modified.  A programme of feminisation was the preferred method whereby the young man would be treated just as any other pupil for the duration of their stay. If the new student resisted or became belligerent then a stricter regimen was implemented and the unfortunate young man would find himself beginning his sentence as a junior housemaid. For those of an even more rebellious nature a stiffer penalty was imposed and the youth would be dispatched to the kitchens to serve as a scullery maid under the authority of St Jude’s cook, the formidable disciplinarian Mrs Coldstrap.

This is exactly where Karl-Maria von Uttendorf now found himself.

 And it was the very same Mrs Coldstrap that was foremost in Karl-Maria’s mind from the moment he opened his eyes every morning. There were a several lessons he had learned very early in his new role, the most important being that escape was impossible from this particular establishment and any attempt would be punished severely but even worse, would add to his time at St Jude’s. Equally important was to ensure he did not displease his new overseer and his every waking moment was spent trying to make certain she found as little fault with him as possible. Of course this was impossible and no matter how hard he tried there was always something that she found lacking in his efforts, a thumb print on a plate, the tiniest spot of grease on the stove, her boots not polished to the correct standard. Rarely did a day go by where he did not make some transgression or other. Usually his minor lapses elicited a stream of contempt which left him humiliated in front of the other servants whose laughter served to increase his mortification tenfold.

His most egregious lapses however were punished by being placed over her knees and six strokes of a wooden spoon applied to his buttocks. The first time this occurred the chastisement was to be executed in front of the assembled domestic staff however Mrs Coldstrap in an unusual bout of leniency graciously relented after he fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around her voluminous skirts and begged her to do it in private.  To his great relief every subsequent disciplining of this nature- and there were many- also took place in her bedroom where to his even greater surprise after he had received his correction she became somewhat kind--hearted and compassionate. The distress and humiliation he experienced was eased in the way she held him to her ample bosom as he felt the warmth of her statuesque frame press against him. After the most recent occasion when there was a particularly zealous application of the wooden spoon and his tears freely flowed in avery unbecoming girlish fashion Mrs Coldstrap became quite overcome, kindly insisting he lay on the bed where she could administer some soothing balm. He was too fearful to decline and as he lay face down on her bed she began her ministrations. To his horror he felt something he had not experienced since his incarceration -a faint but recognisable stirring in his nether regions. His humiliation was now superseded by a sudden panic which began to rise together with the engorgement of his organ. Much as he tried to mentally constrain the offending member her gentle touch on his buttocks made it impossible.

Just as it was becoming intolerable he heard a knock on the door, Mrs Coldstrap ignored it but as it became more persistent she broke off her treatment with a growl and went to the door and became engaged in a lengthy conversation with the unwelcome interloper. He gratefully took the opportunity to rise from the bed and arrange his uniform properly.

She eventually returned to him and patting him on the cheek told him in a clearly irritated voice she had been summoned to a meeting with the Headmistress. As she was distracted by this unwelcome news he took the opportunity to escape, mentioning he had various tasks still undone as she fumbled for a clean apron she barely acknowledged his leaving her presence.

That incident had only occurred the previous day and he noticed on her return from the Headmistress her mood was more agitated than was customary and  afraid of repercussions did his best to keep his distance.

So it was with even more trepidation than usual that he began his menial work on this particular morning and he ensured he made as little noise as possible as he moved about the kitchen, cleaning out the stoves before lighting the fires and readying the area for Mrs Coldstrap’s arrival in an hour or so. When she did appear she was too preoccupied with her work and he received a mere three minor scoldings and only one smack on the ear which given what he usually encountered he considered it an excellent start to the day. It was usually around this time that he would try to gauge her humours and plot his strategy for keeping on her good side for the day. This normally involved being as docile and subservient as possible which as a result the regular and many reprimands, admonishments and punishments he  received on a regular basis now came as second nature to him. However it was quite difficult to keep out of her way and in fact the only time he was allowed leave the kitchen and Mrs Coldstrap’s eagle eye was to scrub the front steps of the school as well as the basement steps leading to the kitchen.

It was while he had his head down scouring the stone steps that he heard a voice call out but as none of the pupils lifting their skirts as they passed him ever acknowledged his presence never mind even consider speaking to him he felt he must have misheard. Even more importantly he dare not lift his head from his task for fear of being accused of slacking.

“Girl !”  the voice rang out again but much louder.

From the very first hour of his detention he had been informed males were considered personae non gratae and from that day onward his male name would cease to be used. In fact he was not to have any name and until the Headmistress decided otherwise and as such he would only be addressed as ‘Girl’.  Indeed he had become so used to this designation there were occasions he found it difficult to recall his name and found himself repeating over and over in bed so as not to forget it. However this was becoming more and more difficult to achieve and now he could only vaguely recall it on the rare occasion he had a moment or two to himself.

Now he heard the voice again but it was more impatient this time and he took the chance on raising his head slightly. Standing on the top step was Janet, the head housemaid . 

“Are you being wilfully disobedient, Girl.” she barked. “Or just plain stupid.”

Suddenly realising he was the recipient of her ire he quickly responded in the way that he’d had to learn the hard way.

“No Miss, I’m sorry Miss.

Addressing another servant as ‘Miss’ was merely another humiliation among dozens he endured every day.

“I sincerely hope not girl.” Janet said brusquely “Now come with me the Headmistress wishes to see you. You can collect your scrubbing brush and pail later.”

Perplexed by this summons he almost stumbled up the steps.

“Straighten your uniform girl.” Janet snapped “The Headmistress detests slovenliness.”

Walking across the expansive hallway a shiver went up his spine as he suddenly remembered the only other time he had crossed its highly polished tiles. As a lowly scullery maid he was never allowed above stairs to sully its elegance.

After knocking and being given permissonto enter he now found himself face to face with the woman who had interned him and forced him into the life of a drudge. Anger was absent, that emotion had long been dispatched and had been replaced by resignation of his fate and a flickering hope that someday release may come.

As was usual when he was confronted by a female of any rank he instinctively bobbed a curtsy.

The Headmistress behind her large mahogany desk studied at him over her bifocals and to the increasingly nervous young man it seemed like an eternity before she spoke.

“How long have you been with us, girl?” she eventually said.

It took him several seconds before he found his voice.

“Ah… I…ah…it…”he stammered having no idea as his new life had erased his sense of time.

“Yes I thought so.” The Headmistress said with a degree of satisfaction before giving a little laugh “Time flies when you are enjoying yourself no doubt.”

His eyes dropped to the floor with a sudden onset of shame.

“Would you say you have made progress?”she asked rising from her chair and moving to the front of her desk.

“Oh yes…Mrs…” he blurted forgetting whom he was addressing and suddenly became flustered and a little fearful.

“Madam.” The Headmistress offered helpfully.

“Oh yes Madam.” he spouted enthusiastically.

“Yes Mrs Coldstrap is of the same view.” she concurred “And would like to keep you as her scullery maid , maybe even promote you to kitchen maid. I believe she has a soft spot for you.”

The young man blushed and clutched his drab uniform to stop his hands from shaking.

“Would you like that?”she pressed him further.

At the nightmarish suggestion of a future under Mrs Coldstrap a panic began to rise inside but sensing his imminent collapse the Headmistress quickly added,

“Or would you like to become a junior housemaid?”

His life under Mrs Coldstrap’s austere regimen had seemed like an eternity but was in fact only a matter of weeks. However in this short time the relentlessness of the humiliations and punishments he suffered had stripped him not only of his male clothing but also practically every vestige of masculinity. It was only when he undressed at night he saw the physical signs of his manliness but his state of mind had been so perversely transformed even such evidence seemed more like a mirage than reality. Another one of the Fates cruel tricks.From dawn to dusk being dressed as a scullery maid , performing a female kitchen servant’s menial tasks, constantly addressed as ‘Girl’ had eroded any semblance of maleness and in his confused mind he wasn’t sure if he was male or female.

For the downtrodden and emasculated scullery maid this sudden offer of escaping from the sheer drudgery of life under Mrs Coldstrap was like throwing a life line to a shipwrecked mariner. So devoid was the young man of self-esteem not to mention any appreciable male identity the prospect of ascending the servant hierarchy and becoming a housemaid was almost beyond his wildest dreams. From his lowly position in the kitchen he viewed the housemaids with their smart uniforms as the pinnacle of domestic service.

“Do you understand the Headmistress, girl?” Janet asked impatiently.

“Oh yes…yes Madam.” he blurted excitedly at her prompting.

“Yes I thought you might.” the Headmistress smiled “But it will be a probationary period. If we are not satisfied with you then you will return to Mrs Coldstrap. Do you understand?”

“Yes Madam, thank you Madam.” he babbled gratefully and for good measure curtsied.

“This is a rare opportunity for a scullery maid. ” the Headmistress stressed gravely “I sincerely hope you understand and  will grasp it, otherwise…”

“Oh yes…yes Headmistress.” he blurted excitedly  “I will, I won’t let you down.”

The Headmistress acknowledged the gesture with a contented smile and waved her hand to dismiss him.

“Come along girl.” Janet ordered and they made their exit but not before he thanked the Headmistress and once more curtsied.

As they turned the Headmistress allowed herself a self-satisfied smile.

Janet led him up the servants’ stairs to an attic room which although sparsely furnished was palatial compared to his current accommodation. On the simple iron framed bed there was a black dress, a white apron and matching cap, Janet beckoned him to disrobe and put them on. He stood staring at the garments and felt his heart thumping in his chest. The first time he was confronted with a set of female clothing, the dismal uniform he now wore, there was no such invitation. He was held by two large and hefty female outdoor servants while he was forcibly dressed. Subsequent attempts to cast them off were met by severe canings until he learned there was no escape from their humiliating envelopment. He quickly realised continuing with such resistance was quite useless in the face of the overwhelming forces ranged against him. The flame of masculinity that once burned so vigorously inside was now a faint, almost imperceptible ember.

As his gaze lingered on the garments his masculinity was now far from his thoughts, he only saw the neat and elegant uniform of a housemaid and with it the once seemingly unobtainable possibility of fleeing Mrs Coldstrap’s clutches.  Janet smiled as she watched his hand tentatively reach out to touch the dress almost as if he was handling some precious artefact. The haughty arrogance of the young man she had witnessed walk through the front door a short time ago was completely absent. His self-confidence and swagger replaced now by a timidity and subservience instilled by Mrs Coldstraps’s relentless regime of subjugation. Fear of a return to her control would doubtless ensure his continuing obedience.

It was with a mixture of giddiness and relief that he hurriedly removed his scullery maid’s dull garb and donned his new attire. He quickly if a little clumsily pulled the dress over his head and lost no time in securing the buttons almost as if afraid the garment would magically leave him  if he did not quickly anchor it to himself. Janet watched with a smirk as he put on the pinafore apron and expertly tied it into a perfect bow at the back. She could barely contain her amusement as he picked up the frilled cap and quickly moved to the small mirror on the wall. It was something he enviously witnessed the housemaids do in the kitchen before they presented themselves upstairs. Remembering their every move he ensured the cap was correctly positioned on his head and pinned it in place before presenting himself to his new supervisor for approval.

“Hmm… not bad…but there’s still something not quite right ...”she hesitated  trying to determine the solution “ A little too much masculinity but a little powder and some light lip colouring should repair the damage.”

At the mention this something deep inside him stirred. He briefly considered questioning such measures but such was his state of excitement at being free of Mrs Coldstrap he immediately disregarded the notion, besides risking Janet’s ire at questioning her authority was far too great a chance to take.

The faint ember of masculinity grew slightly dimmer.

 

“No one likes to see a mannish servant girl above stairs.” she said as she administered the final touches “Isn’t that correct girl.”

“Yes…yes....”he replied quickly, feeling that to disagree would incur his supervisor’s irritation and the consequences were too terrible to contemplate.

He remained silent as she completed her task and once satisfied moved him to the mirror to see the results. Denied a mirror since his incarceration he gazed intently at the reflection and discovered he had to concentrate to discern what should have been familiar features. Despite the evidence of his own eyes he found it difficult to believe these characteristics , now softened by the addition of cosmetics, were indeed those of his own.

“It’s not seemly for a girl, especially a junior housemaid to admire herself.” Janet said a little scornfully but seeing what a good job she had done softened her tone “Although I suppose in your case it’s understandable. Now come along girl, you have work to do.”

As they descended the backstairs Janet informed him of his various duties and how he was to conduct himself now that he would be working ‘above stairs’. This instruction continued as they emerged from behind a green baize door on one of the floors where the school’s pupils had their rooms. As they passed a full length mirror mounted on the wall the young man caught a glimpse of himself and marvelled not only at the difference his new uniform made but also how different his face appeared. Gone was the drab and gloomy wretch that toiled miserably under Mrs Coldstrap’s, it was replaced by a figure whose face had a lighter and more hopeful aspect.  

Janet stopped at a door and after knocking lightly received permission to enter and tucking himself behind her he too slipped inside. The opulence of the room took Karl-Maria’s breath away and he almost gasped as his eyes took the elegantly appointed décor and furniture. Mrs Coldstrap’s unrelenting and often comfortless regimen left little time for him to dwell on his former existence life and to avoid her sharp tongue he quickly adapted to life below stairs. The incessant work of a scullery maid   had been managed to diminish memories of his previous privileged life and he almost forget he once slept in a room similar to this one. Now, in these surroundings and much like his dormant masculinity, visions of his entitled past flashed briefly in his brain.

And with these memories came some vague emotional stirrings deep within him however just as he was reflecting on these Janet’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The new girl Madam.” she said and he suddenly became aware of being pushed towards the Headmistress and a young woman in a state of semi-undress.

“We have a new maid, Headmistrass?” the girl, ignored the two servants and addressed the Headmistress

“I would not say new, Bella.” The Headmistress replied moving closer to two servants. “I have promoted the scullery maid, for a probationary period of course. But as Head Girl I would welcome your views.”

“The scullery maid.!” the girl repeated , the surprise and more than a hint of delight evident in her voice, her interest now piqued she followed the Headmistress across the room, the half-crinoline perched on her hips swaying as she moved.

As the two intimidating figures approached him any thoughts or remembrances of his former life vanished immediately, a familiar anxiety reasserted itself. His only concern now was to ensure he was not returned to the clutches of the waiting Mrs Coldstrap. The lowly servant he had become reasserted itself and as the two ladies came to a halt in front of him he lowered his eyes and in an automatic response to the presence of any female he immediately curtsied. He felt both excited and apprehensive, apart from his recent interview with the Headmistress, this was the first time he had come face to face with one of the teaching staff or a pupil. Of course they had passed him as he scrubbed the front steps but the only part of them he saw was the hems of their dresses as they went by, never acknowledging his existence but then why would they or anyone else for that matter notice a scullery maid- that was the lot of the lowest servant.

The only thought that now occupied his excited brain was to make a good impression.

“This is that dreadful boy who arrived some time ago?” Bella asked the Headmistress a little incredulously.

The Headmistress smiled and placing her forefinger under his chin lifted Karl-Maria’s head and her eyes met his.

“Answer, Miss Bella, girl”

Being addressed as ‘girl’ everyday, suffering various indignities and humiliations had weakened his resolve, this combined with Mrs Coldstrap’s regimen of long hours and hard work had gone a long way in erasing his sense of self.  When he did have a moment to reflect ,he now rarely thought of himself as male –he had come to consider himself as merely the scullery maid. The elegance of the room in which he now stood had momentarily reawakened vague visions of a previous life but the immediacy of his prospects of escaping Mrs Coldstrap had quickly dispelled those recollections.

“Ah…I… umm…ah…”he stammered and instinctively curtsying added “Yes… Miss.”

“And where have you been hiding yourself?” Bella asked with a half smile.

His eyes dropped to the floor once more.

“Answer Miss Bella, girl.” Janet prodded him once more.

“In the kitchens Miss.” he replied with a deference he now found as natural as breathing, a nod of Janet’s head indicated that he should expand on his answer “ As Mrs Coldstrap’s scullery maid, Miss.”

 “Ah yes.” Bella sighed “That is where the more disobedient boys are sent for…”

“Guidance…” the Headmistress helpfully added as she continued her inspection of the new maid making a slight adjustment to the straps of his apron“…to improve their character.”

“And has your character improved?” Bella continued probing.

“Oh, yes Miss.” he was quick to respond, images of scrubbing floors and scouring pots and pans loomed large in his head. “I’ve learned a lot.”

The young man now felt he was within touching distance of deliverance from the purgatory of life as a scullery maid.

“I’m so glad to hear it.” Bella said “And your ambition now is to...”

She paused for a moment and glanced at the Headmistress who smiled and nodded for her to continue but a clearly over-excited eagerness in the youth’s voice finished the sentence.

“To become a housemaid Miss.”

Do you think this is possible Headmistress.” Bella said a note of caution in her tone “Having a male as a scullery maid in the kitchen where no one would see him is one thing, but he would be visible to pupils and visitors as a housemaid.  Perhaps it is too early for him to be promoted I wonder if another spell under Mrs Coldstrap would be more beneficial. After all the position is for a girl.”

Karl-Maria felt the prize being torn from his grasp. He fell to his knees and clutched the girl’s ankles, sobbing

“Oh please…please Miss Bella.

“Well he is not the prettiest I grant you.” the Headmistress said “but Mrs Coldstrap tells me although not perfect he is making progress in comporting himself as a female. In as much as a scullery maid can I suppose.”

The three women looked down at the pathetic figure who had now taken up position at the feet of the Headmistress.

“He is not the most nimble and does tend to be somewhat awkward in his gait, Madam. Janet offered helpfully “but there is no doubt he does appear to have acquired some female traits, perhaps in time he could reasonably be regarded as female. If he is prepared to make the effort that is.”

“Is that right?” Bella said and looking down at the pitiful shape clutching at the hem of the Headmistress’s skirts.  “Would you like to become more… like a girl?”

Another lifeline now dangled in front of him and despite his distress he grabbed at it immediately.

“Oh yes, yes Miss Bella.” he exclaimed eagerly, his face a mixture of hope and gratitude.

“Well I suppose if he quickly develops female traits and habits he may make a reasonably presentable housemaid.” Bella spoke directly to the Headmistress.

“As I said Bella, it will be for a probationary period.” the Headmistress replied and turned her attention to the young man still clinging to her skirts and motioned him to stand and spoke to him in a cautionary tone “Of course if you disappoint Miss Bella or Janet it will be back to the kitchen for you. Do you understand girl?”

“Yes Headmistress, of course Headmistress.” he blurted  and curtsied “I promise I will do anything asked of me.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” the Headmistress said.

“Now that he is a junior housemaid should we decide on a name for him, Headmistress?” Bella suggested.

“Mmm… I suppose we should.” the Headmistress answered, examining his face as if looking for inspiration.

“Fetch Miss Bella’s petticoats from Miss Bella’s dressing room, Janet will show you where they are,” The Headmistress eventually said gesturing to Janet “while Miss Bella and I will consider an appropriate female name for you.”

After another curtsy he walked with Janet to retrieve the garments ensuring he swayed his hips slightly to affect a more feminine gait and for the first time in what seemed for an eternity he allowed himself a brief and furtive smile of relief.

A junior housemaid  he said to himself with  mixture of pride and relief.

He now realised he had the opportunity to finally slip the chains of Mrs Coldstrap and glancing around at his elegant surroundings was determined never to return.