The Music Lovers (Pt 1) with image

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

Hopefully I may be able to post some images also.

Thanks for your patience and hopefully you may enjoy it.

Carrie

The Music Lovers

by

CarrieP

 

 

C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, he apologised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 T

o be continued.

The Shape of Things to Come - New Image

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

Thanks to Jennifer for providing and inserting the text.

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

Thanks for your patience.

Take care

Carrie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take care of yourselves. 

Carrie

A Mutual Understanding.

By

 

CarrieP

 

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A low whine drifted across the room.

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

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

The maid’s gaze fell to the floor.

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

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

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

“Ah...I see now.” Amelia said.

Georgina nodded her understanding and smiled sympathetically at the maid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Try underneath” Caroline helpfully suggested with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

William’s eyes suddenly lifted from the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart sank.

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

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

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

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

He curtsied.

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

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

He feigned a demure expression and lowered his eyes respectfully.

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

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

“Yes Madam, of course Madam.” he blurted

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

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

As he reached the door her voice called out,

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

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

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

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

Hello

 Hello, 

It's been a while, just over four months to be precise and I hope that readers that still visit the blog are healthy and well.

Circumstances made it difficult for me to write anything and I'm still not sure if I can produce much worth reading but in the last few weeks I have made an effort to write something. If I do complete the piece it will be very short but at least it's a start. Hopefully there will be a few still readers interested.

In the meantime I've reworked some old images and am working on a few more as well as some new ones.

My thanks to Jennie for inserting the text in a more readable format than I could ever have done.

Below in an old re worked image which might make an interesting story  if I ever get around to it.

Take care 

Carrie

Crime and Punishment

 

For some reason the first two short paragraphs were unreadable when I originally previewed/posted but it  should not matter to the story. 

The main character is Miss Cecily Wareham.

I'm really not sure when I'll be able to contribute anything further to the blog as there is a lot going on in my life and none of it good.

Thank you for your kind comments and support over the years, it was and is greatly appreciated.

Hope you will like this also.

Take care of yourselves and have a good Christmas.

Carrie

Crime and Punishment

Carrie P

She rose from her chair and smoothed her pencil skirt over her ample hips and walked slowly from the room into the spacious tiled vestibule, stopping to check her appearance in the large ornate mirror. Only too well aware of her status and authority, she was not a woman to be hurried and examined her expertly made up face closely. Satisfied that it required no re-touching, she fixed a stray strand of hair back into place and finally made her way towards the door, the distinctive sound of her four inch heels on the cold tiles echoing through the air.

Opening the door she was confronted with two heavy set policewomen either side of a young man with a pale and clearly anguished face. Behind them was another female police officer, her uniform identifying her as a Chief Inspector?

“Miss Wareham, I am Chief Inspector Joyce. We spoke on the telephone.” the Chief Inspector stepped forward, introduced herself and gesturing  to the young man, she added in an undisguised disdainful voice “I believe this person is known to you.”

Cecily Wareham looked at the miserable figure that was unable to meet her eye, she held her gaze for several seconds before addressing the Chief Inspector.

“And my other servant, Chief Inspector?” she eventually enquired.

The young man winced at the term but considering his present circumstances was in no position to contradict his employer.

“In custody, Madam.” Chief Inspector Joyce replied and gestured to her subordinates to release the terrified young man and return to their car parked at a discreet distance away.

“Please come in Chief Inspector.” Miss Wareham, with an elegant motion of her hand invited the policewoman to enter “I am most interested to hear of your investigations.”

The Chief Inspector, with a firm hold on the young man, followed her through the hallway into the gracefully appointed drawing room.

“I would offer you tea Chief Inspector,” Miss Wareham said, regarding the increasingly anxious young man with a cold gaze “But as you know, I now have no maid.”

“Quite all right, Madam.” Chief Inspector Joyce answered in a most deferential voice and as if to ingratiate herself even more she cast her disapproving eyes in the young man’s direction. For a moment he thought she was going to curtsy. “We apprehended your servant yesterday and have recovered your stolen jewellery, she is currently being questioned and we expect to charge her later today. This young man was in her company when she was apprehended however, he is denying all knowledge of the theft and said it was pure coincidence he happened to be with her at the time. He has also stated he was in your company for several hours on the day of the theft.”

“I see.” Miss Wareham said gravely as she observed the young man with a vaguely disenchanted expression.

It was a look that he knew well from previous experience, one that gave him cause for concern as it was usually followed by verbal chastisement or on certain occasions...he cringed at the memory, something far worse and dreadfully humiliating. In his current precarious position he would gladly accept such admonishment if it meant securing her support which was vital if he was to convince the police of his innocence.

The Chief Inspector paused briefly before continuing,

“Of course we would not usually release a suspect until we had concluded our enquiries, but this person insisted you could confirm his alibi that he had accompanied you to various establishments on the day your jewellery disappeared.  Naturally, as a lady of your social rank, I did not wish to embarrass you by requesting that you attend at the police station.”

“That was very thoughtful and discreet of you Chief Inspector. I am most grateful. ” Miss Wareham gave the Chief Inspector a well practiced patrician smile before turning her attention to the young man.” Yes Florence, has been performing various administrative tasks while my own secretary is indisposed.”

“Flor... did you say Florence, Miss Wareham?” the Chief Inspector blurted, a bemused look on her face as she looked once more in his direction to ensure they were speaking about the same person. “I understood his name was...” she consulted her notebook and utter a name.

“Yes, I believe it is.” she replied unruffled by the Chief Inspector’s obvious baffled expression. “However, I call all my secretaries Florence. They change so often I could not keep up with all the new names. It more efficient don’t you think?”

She looked at the increasingly incredulous policewoman and then in the direction of her red faced secretary.

“Ah yes...I see your confusion.” she laughed, suddenly becoming aware of Chief Inspector’s Joyce’s puzzlement at what she obviously considered a most unusual convention. She paused for a moment and gazed intently at the young man before continuing with a barely disguised smirk. “Yes, I suppose he could be considered male but I saw this as no good reason to change my policy. Besides, I don’t think he finds the name objectionable, do you Florence?”

Of course he did. He cringed every time she addressed him by that awful female name, feeling demeaned by her total disregard not only for his name but his male dignity. What was worse, her friends, who were frequent visitors to the house, quickly became aware of his humiliating nom de femme.  Adding insult to injury, whenever he was present in their company they used female pronouns when referring to him, ‘she is quite efficient.’  ‘is that her natural colour hair.’ and similar comments. He was greatly affronted by such casual disregard for his masculinity even though these ladies seemed blissfully unaware of the embarrassment and offence their remarks caused.

However, fear has a way of quickly eroding pride and concentrating the mind. Such an illustrious name as Miss Wareham appearing on his resume would help to open many doors in his future career. He considered it would not only be foolish but harmful for him to register any disapproval. For his strategic plan, he quickly learned to swallow his male pride.

 Now, in his present difficult circumstances, his career was the last thing on his mind and it was imperative that he remained in her good graces, he could not risk anything that would  upset her. He knew he was innocent but there were gaps in his alibi not to mention problematic circumstantial evidence, her support and protection were now vital. At that precise moment she could have called him any name she choose and he would have answered to it.

 He was acutely aware his whole future was now in this woman’s hands. He was far too realistic and pragmatic to allow mere self-respect to jeopardise it.

“Oh no, Miss Wareham.” he gushed and managed a deferential but nervous smile “Not at all.”

From the corner of his eye he noticed the hint of a sneer on the policewoman’s face but there was too much at stake to show his displeasure.

“And was...”Chief Inspector Joyce continued, as she visibly struggled to contain her amusement, “...ahem...Florence with you throughout the entire afternoon?”

“Well most of it.” Miss Wareham answered.

“Most of it.” the Chief Inspector repeated and a trace of suspicion crept into her voice “So there were times he was out of your sight.”

“He accompanied me to a number of establishments in the morning.” Miss Wareham said, recollecting the day in question. “A hair appointment, some shoe shopping, my lawyer.”

“And he was with you all this time?” Chief Inspector Joyce enquired.

 

“Well, I suppose when I met my lawyer, there would have been half an hour perhaps forty five minutes where I did not have sight of him.

 

“Mmm, I see.” the Chief Inspector considered her reply, her brow slightly furrowed and repeated, “forty five minutes.”

The young man’s heart quickened and now expected the Chief Inspector to turn her attention to him, he desperately tried to remember what he’d done in that time. However to his surprise and his relief she continued with Miss Wareham.

“And your movements in the afternoon, Madam?”

“Oh, he was with me all afternoon.” Miss Wareham replied confidently and the young man could feel the beginning of another ripple of heat in his cheeks.

“He accompanied me to my corsetiere.” Miss Wareham declared without hesitation. “I had a fitting for several new  items of foundations wear. Isn’t that correct, Florence?”

“Foundation wear!”The Chief Inspector asked unable to conceal her surprise as she glanced at the young man who sheepishly confirmed his employer’s statement with an embarrassed nod.

“Yes, it was my maid’s day off.” Miss Wareham, continued, giving a snort of derision at the memory of the fateful day, “Or should I say my thief’s day off. It would appear it was her opportunity to betray my trust and steal my jewellery.”

The Chief Inspector nodded in a sympathetic manner as Miss Wareham continued,

“As a woman I’m sure you can appreciate Chief Inspector, I required assistance particularly as some of my new foundations require lacing and I knew the corsetiere would be short staffed.”

The Chief Inspector looked contemptuously at increasingly uncomfortable and clearly self-conscious young man. His discomfiture did not escape Miss Wareham’s notice.

“So he acted as your maid on the day in question?” the policewoman asked, addressing Miss Wareham but not taking her eyes from her prisoner.

“I never thought of it like that.” Miss Wareham answered and for the first time the young man could see her features softened and a smile appeared on her handsome face. “Yes I suppose you could say he served as my maid for the day. Actually to be truthful, he has performed similar duties previously, on several occasions when my...” she paused and corrected herself before continuing , her face suddenly changing and taking on a distasteful look, “that deceitful girl was absent. Isn’t that correct Florence?”

 He nodded sheepishly and lowered his eyes.

“Well is your mistress correct, boy?”

“Yes Miss Wareham.” he replied in a barely audible voice and silently beseeched Miss Wareham not to elaborate, he breathed a  sigh of relief as she continued.

“No need to be so bashful, Florence.” Miss Wareham, her demeanour reverted once more into a more relaxed manner and she laughed lightly “You should be proud, after all you are the only male to have set foot inside such an exclusively feminine establishment. In fact with those delicate features you were quite indistinguishable from the other young girls present. Afterwards I learned that they thought it odd that girl would wear male clothing.”

“That was so amusing Florence.”she laughed softly

His face took on a bright pink glow which was deepening by the second and quickly becoming a noticeable blush but he knew he had to respond positively.

“Oh yes Miss Wareham.” he managed to say almost convincingly.

Satisfied he was sufficiently embarrassed, Miss Wareham turned to the Chief Inspector,

“Not one of the women present, including the sales assistants, considered his presence objectionable even though I insisted he was male. In fact they said that if he was wearing a skirt instead of trousers they would have scarcely noticed any difference from our own sex. And the dear boy has such a docile manner. Yes Chief Inspector, he blended in quite well.”

The young man’s cheeks had now become distinctly red and he lowered his head in shame. There was no point in denying it as every word she uttered was true.

“Yes I can understand that.” Chief Inspector Joyce said, her voice low with a hint of vague menace, she placed a finger underneath his chin and lifting his head she peered into his mortified eyes. “We almost made a similar mistake and placed him in the female cells, it was several hours before a commotion alerted us to the error. Fortunately we rescued him in time. ”

This was a source of amusement for both women and seeing their reaction he felt his face burn with mortification.

“And he remained in the corsetiere’s for how long exactly?” the Chief Inspector asked, finally composing herself.

“As I said Chief Inspector, like many ladies in my position I usually have assistance when dressing and undressing and Florence here provided that assistance. ” Miss Wareham answered.

“So he was there for the duration of your stay.” the Chief Inspector repeated incredulously.

“Yes, of course. In fact one or two of my friends arrived without their maids and he assisted them also so, they can also vouch for him. He has become quite capable at...” Miss Wareham hesitated for a few seconds and looked once more at her secretary.

“Being your maid?” the Chief Inspector volunteered as she too stared at him.

“Well I was going to say, serving me in a number of ways.” Miss Wareham said “But I suppose you are correct. Attending to me in such an establishment is really the function of a maid.”

The words cut him like a cold razor blade. It had now become abundantly clear to him that his ambitions for his future career had come at quite a cost. He had convinced himself any request from his employer, no matter how humiliating or debasing, was worth it if it achieved his ultimate goal- entry into the same circles as Miss Wareham. Being compared to a maid was indeed a new low for his masculine pride but was now the time to remonstrate with his employer? She would hardly take kindly to being upbraided by him in front of the police.  The vision of the large, burly and uncouth women in the police cells loomed large in his mind and he visibly shivered.

No, he immediately decided now was not the time. He needed her protection and perhaps with some luck he could even salvage his career prospects.

“A male in such an exclusively feminine sphere.” the Chief Inspector mused on such an   outrageous notion “It is most unconventional almost... bizarre. I would like to hear more... if you don’t mind of course, Miss Wareham.”

The young man froze as Miss Wareham settled herself on the large blue damask sofa, smoothed her skirt and casually checked to see if the black lace of her slip was showing. Satisfied her lingerie was concealed, she gestured the Chief Inspector to join her but kept her eyes trained on the clearly anxious male figure in front of her and addressed him in a soft yet commanding voice,

“Florence, you may sit between us.

A refusal was out of the question, he quietly eased himself into the space between the two women.

“Legs, Florence.” Miss Wareham issued the instruction brusquely; he immediate drew his knees together and crossed his legs at the ankles, he then tilted his legs at a slight angle. It was an undeniably feminine pose.

“Good girl.”Miss Wareham praised him with a smile and a pat on the knee.

Both women noticed the unambiguous wince on his face at her appreciative remark but neither made any remark, they merely continued to smile at him.

“He is very well trained, Miss Wareham.” the Chief Inspector observed with a smirk.

“Yes, much easier to mould than my last girl.” the older woman replied. “Isn’t that right Florence?”

The rebuke he had received from the Chief Inspector minutes earlier had made him even more nervous and his response was immediate.

“Yes, Miss Wareham.” he replied and in a demure manner automatically folded his hands in his lap.

The gesture brought further praise from his employer as she patted his cheek with an  affection that was genuine. Although, this initially instigated yet another sensation of shame it was almost immediately replaced with one of relief, a strange feeling of comfort that he now appeared to have earned her favour.

“Now, where were we?” Miss Wareham said absentmindedly “Ah yes Chief Inspector, the corsetiere...”

As Miss Wareham began speaking, the young man cringed and recalled the sacrifices he’d made in pursuit of his ambitions, the many humiliations he’d endured, the countless ignominies suffered, these would now be laid bare in front of yet another female. Most of these took place in the confines of this house or occasionally in the houses of his employer’s friends and dreadful as these incidents were, at least they occurred in a private setting. The nightmarish episode Miss Wareham was about to recount to the Chief Inspector was in a more public space and his mortification had been witnessed by an entire squadron women of all ages and social positions from dowagers to shop assistants.

He had wished to erase this dreadful incident from his memory and attempted to block out his employer’s voice as he could not tolerate the account of his latest indignity to reach his ears. Unfortunately, try as he might there was little he could do to prevent those hideous  scenes playing out in his mind’s eye.

The visit to the corsetiere was far too recent and too hideous to have been able to lock away inside his subconscious mind and now Miss Wareham’s recollection brought the entire affair to the surface once more.

He cringed at the recollection of walking through the tall doors of the emporium. Miss Wareham had given him no inkling of what type of establishment they were visiting but within seconds of the large dark teak doors closing behind him he knew he had stepped into another realm. He was unprepared for the sights that greeted him, women of various ages, shapes and sizes, dressed expensively and elegantly wandering about with sales assistants following them like obedient poodles.  Mannequins dressed in every conceivable item of foundation wear were littered abundantly around the spacious foyer with mothers and daughters discussing the merits of the garments on show. Long glass counters supported plastic torsos and busts displaying various styles of girdles and brassieres. Silk and satin slips were displayed on other mannequins. The venue exuded femininity. He immediately recognised what a ghastly situation he was in and drew himself closer to Miss Wareham much like a child when seeking the protection of a parent. He hoped her presence would somehow form a magical shield around him which would render him invisible to the patrons examining the formidable wares on display.

“And you say they did not immediately recognise there was a male accompanying you?” he heard the Chief Inspector voice drift into his head.

“You must understand Chief Inspector, his wardrobe consists mainly of ghastly, cheap male clothing which would offend any women of taste. Naturally I am mindful of my reputation and as he was accompanying me I did not wish to be embarrassed.”

The Chief Inspector nodded empathetically.

“I suppose the fact he was wearing one of my high- waisted, wide legged pleated pants and a powder blue silk shirt with bishop sleeves, may have helped him in some way to blend in.” Miss Wareham answered with a smile of admiration and once more patted his knee, reassuring him. “You did look so fashionable, Florence. I saw many of the girls looking at you with envy.”

The young man shifted uncomfortably as the Chief Inspector examined him once more, he could easily tell from her face she was trying to visualise the outfit described, after a few moments nodded her understanding.

“Yes, I imagine he did.” An approving smile appeared on the Chief Inspector’s face.

“It was only when, Miss Concannon, the owner and a woman I have known for many years, asked if he was my niece I felt obliged to divulge his true sex.” Miss Wareham laughed at the recollection before adding “At first she didn’t believe me as she could see shoulder straps through his blouse... or rather his shirt.”

“Shoulder straps?” the Chief Inspector inquired a note of puzzlement in her voice.

“Yes.”Miss Wareham answered, her face taking on a look of maternal concern “It was a little chilly for the time of year and I did not wish the poor boy to feel cold so I insisted he wear one of my camisoles. A particular favourite of mine in heavy satin with scalloped lace at the neckline and shoulder straps. Unfortunately it was a little darker than his blouse and the straps and the lace were slightly visible. I suppose in retrospect it was an unfortunate choice of colour. However, the ensemble obviously impressed Miss Concannon and when I addressed him as Florence she smiled at him and seemed to ignore my revelation that he was indeed male. I recall her reassuring him and not to be worried as her clientele would be unlikely, like her, to notice any trace of his masculinity.”

Although he recoiled at the memory he did take some small comfort. He could see Miss Wareham’s face had softened considerably while recounting that dreadful incident and he sensed her attitude was becoming increasingly more tolerant to him than when he first appeared at her door. He steeled himself for what was to come and knew that if he was to avoid returning to the police station with the Chief Inspector he would have to endure his mortification without any display of anger or even mild annoyance.

“Of course my corsetiere was correct, Chief Inspector.” Miss Wareham continued “Apart from a few vaguely disapproving glances, as he was the only one wearing pants. Some  ladies do not wish to encourage their daughters to wear pants as they find it unfeminine however, none of the other patrons seemed to notice anything unusual about him.”

He desperately attempted to hide his rising discomfiture as she recounted, much to the Chief Inspector’s growing interest, how Miss Concannon escorted him to one of the counters and began selecting various sturdy  garments, some with laces dangling from them, others with heavy duty zippers and yet others with a variety of buckles and straps. Each garment, formidable as it was, nevertheless was rendered more pleasing on the eye by the heavy satin front and back panels. Even the heavy corselettes although obviously unyielding were made more attractive though a combination of heavy satin and intricate lacework on the garments brassiere cups. He remembered the knowing smirk on Miss Concannon’s face as she laid each garment one by one onto his outstretched hands until they reached almost to his chin.

He suddenly became aware of both women staring at him. As both he and Miss Wareham knew this was not the first time he had handled ladies foundations and he dearly hoped she would not divulge this to the Chief Inspector who, by now, was sitting at the edge of her seat.

“He must have been most uncomfortable.” the Chief Inspector stated the obvious.

“As any male would.” Miss Wareham confirmed with a smile “But I suspect he became even more so when he spotted my dear friend, Lady Mantell. You should know that on the occasions when she visits me, he tries to convey an outward display of self-assured masculinity, so to find himself in such feminine surroundings and now laden down with female foundation wear must have been somewhat embarrassing.”

“Not to mention his...”the Chief Inspector paused and turned to him with a contemptuous smirk “girlish outfit.”

Both women laughed at the remark and he felt a familiar warmth rise in his cheeks as the memory flooded back and he dreaded having this ghastly scene shared with another human being. His eyes pleaded with Miss Wareham to discontinue the conversation but she the Chief Inspector had once again gained her attention.

“It took Lady Mantell a full minute to recognise him.” Miss Wareham blurted, her voice tinged with a degree of self-satisfaction at her part in his transformation, the young man cringed at the recollection and knew the Chief Inspector would be treated to a full account of his hideous ordeal.  

“Of course, she was astonished at his appearance and took some time to examine him to ensure her eyes did not deceive her.” Miss Wareham explained “And I noticed her attitude towards him became quite agreeable, quite friendly, in fact. Isn’t that so, Florence?”

By now his cheeks were a rosy hue but he could not deny the truth. Lady Mantell’s previously dismissive demeanour towards him had vanished, replaced by a more amicable attitude. He was ashamed to conclude that his unmanly clothing could quite easily ingratiate him to a leading and well-connected  society matron as Lady Mantell.

“Yes, Miss Wareham.” He was forced to agree and as she began to recollect how both women guided him towards the dressing room.

“Surely Miss Wareham, he was not present when you...”the Chief Inspector said, her incredulous as she looked at the young man, whose  eyes were now fixed firmly on the floor “...when you undressed.”

“You should understand Chief Inspector,” Miss Wareham replied “I am quite relaxed regarding... shall we say, appearing  au natural.”

“But in front of...”the Chief Inspector gestured at the young man, whose cheeks continued to glow crimson, “a male.”

“A male!, oh come now, Chief Inspector. ” Miss Wareham exclaimed, her face unable to disguise her surprise at her companion’s remark, which served to deepen the redness in the young man’s cheeks. “Do you really consider Florence here, a male? I suppose if one was to stretch one’s imagination, a case could be made as he may possibly possess the male sex organ but just regard his features. They undoubtedly lack any masculine characteristics, high cheekbones, full lips, wonderfully long eyelashes, those delicate small hands. I grant you, the nose could be a tad more feminine but I really doubt he could be described in any meaningful way as a male. And as you said earlier, in the police station you initially assigned him to the female cells.”

The Chief Inspector once more examined the blushing figure in front of her.

“Yes Miss Wareham.” she replied “You are right of course, how silly of me.”

“Once a male is left in no doubt of his inferiority and subjugation to a confident female, any notion of masculine superiority evaporates.” Miss Wareham declared in a supremely self-assured voice “Obedience and timidity immediately follow and the male is quite easily house-trained.  I find there is little difference between a male in this condition and a girl new to domestic service. Conditioned in this way I cease to view these creatures as male so undressing in front of one is no different than disrobing into front of you or any other member of our sex.”

The Chief Inspector nodded her understanding, her severe features softened somewhat and she now seemed to regard the young man with less animosity and for a moment he thought he detected a faint smile.

 He desperately wanted to flee as Miss Wareham began to recount in minute detail for the Chief Inspector of how he was ushered into the large and well appointed dressing room by the two women.

“Lady Mantell was surprised at how efficient he was at undressing me.” Miss Wareham continued as she glanced at the young man, his eyes remained locked on to some spot on the floor as he knew what she was about to say “Of course it was not the first time he had performed this task, isn’t that correct Florence?”

Silence was not an option and noting the Chief Inspector’s change of attitude towards him he answered softly,

“No Miss Wareham, it was not the first time.”

“Of course he is not as adept as a maid or indeed another female but once guided correctly he is quite competent... for a male.” Miss Wareham said “ He had little difficult unbuttoning my skirt and blouse but he seemed befuddled and disorientated when unzipping my corselette and it seemed to take him forever to undo the hooks and eyes. Lady Mantell eventually lost patience and had to show him how to do it. You would have found it quite amusing Chief Inspector if you had seen him quivering under Lady Mantell’s gaze as he finally completed such a simple exercise. It was even more entertaining to witness him trying to unhook my stockings from the corselette’s garters.”

Miss Wareham giggled at the recollection and he visibly winced, a bead or two of perspiration began to form on his forehead.

“I understand males confronted with the naked female form become...” the Chief Inspector paused, a scowl of disgust suddenly darkening her countenance. She self-consciously cleared her throat, unsure of how to continue.  

“Become aroused!” Miss Wareham interrupted helpfully.

“Well...yes.” the Chief Inspector replied quickly adding “the disgusting creatures.”

“He may have entered into to such a loathsome state but we did not notice any obvious sign.” Miss Wareham said and as the Chief Inspector began to speak Miss Wareham ignored her and continued “You see Chief Inspector, as I already told you he was wearing one of my palazzao pants but what I omitted to mention was, what he wore underneath.”

“I don’t understand.” the Chief Inspector blurted, as she glanced in the young man’s direction once more.

“As you can see, he is a size or two larger than me so in order to fit into my pants he required a little assistance.”

The Chief Inspector’s eyes widened, she uncrossed her legs and pressed her thighs together, a smile formed on her lips.

“Surely you don’t mean...” her voice faltered slightly and became a little higher.

“Well I could not have the poor boy walk around unable to close the zipper of the pants. It would have been most unbecoming.” Miss Wareham answered with a serious face “So naturally I had him put into one of my tighter high-waisted girdles, before the pants were  zipped up from the back.”

“Zipped from the back.” The Chief Inspector repeated with an unmistakable quiver of excitement. “Of course... of course, a typical feminine pair of pants. How wonderful!”

 “And even then it was a bit of a squeeze, isn’t that so Florence?”

Miss Wareham smiled at the young man, who by now, was visibly squirming with shame, his head hung low.

“Answer your mistress girl.” the Chief Inspector said, her breathing a little laboured  but her tone was more encouraging than demanding as she crossed her legs once more , the unmistakeable sound of nylon rubbing against nylon drifting into the air.

“Yes Miss Wareham.” he mumbled, his eyes remaining fixed on some vague point on the floor.

“No need to be embarrassed, my dear.” the Chief Inspector empathised in a reassuring, almost motherly tone as she gently rubbed his thigh, “We have all known the tyranny of the girdle. But, as you have experienced, a proper girdle does wonders for the figure and one becomes used to their tight embrace over time. Isn’t that so, Miss Wareham?”

“Indeed we do, Chief Inspector.”Miss Wareham patted his other thigh, allowing her hand to linger much longer than was necessary and laughed “Although it’s always a relief to take them off.”

Their uninvited attention had the unfortunate consequence of establishing a reaction, an unwanted and embarrassing one between his legs. To his horror he could not prevent his organ slowly swelling and despite mental gymnastics on his part the enlargement continued albeit at a slower rate. He reasoned that, with a bit of luck, it would not be noticed.

“I think you now understand the need for firm and controlling foundation wear, Chief Inspector.” Miss Wareham sighed wearily, her eyes drawing her companion’s notice to the small yet noticeable distension between his legs.

The young man’s heart sank but unfortunately his swollen member did not.

“Yech...such a ghastly sight. Revolting!”the Chief Inspector hissed, her face became contorted with disgust. “And I was beginning to think he was a decent individual, unlike those other dreadful males I occasionally come into  contact with.”

Visions of him being returned to the cells and the fate that awaited him there suddenly loomed large in his mind as the Chief Inspector continued,

“Miss Wareham, you really should not have an individual capable of such depravity under your roof.” Her voice rose and she became agitated as she pointed at the bulge in his trousers, “These...these...creatures are utterly depraved.”

“Yes I understand your concern, Chief Inspector.” Miss Wareham said in a calm voice as she continued to rub his thigh. “Fundamentally, I think he is a decent young man but unfortunately he is a victim of these ghastly, vile male urges and it appears, he just can’t help himself.”

“I think, for your safety, Miss Wareham,” the Chief Inspector, recovering from her bout of repulsion declared in a dispassionate tone “that he is removed from your house immediately and returned to the cells to await arraignment.”

The young man looked to his employer, his face had become quite pale and he felt his hands tremble.

Miss Wareham looked solemnly at the young man but there was no look of repugnance, not even a hint of mild censure,

“Isn’t this why I put you into one of my girdles Florence?” she said softly, “To avoid such a nasty display of bogus masculinity when in the presence of the gentle sex. I thought that you could be helped but perhaps the Chief Inspector is correct, it may be better if you were removed.”

“Oh no...no... please Miss Wareham.” He pleaded, his voice cracking with panic.” It was a...a...”

He could not find an adequate explanation and squeezed her hand in silent supplication his eyes wide in alarm.

“Momentary lapse...” she said helpfully.

“Yes...yes... a momentary lapse, It won’ happen again, I promise.” he pleaded. “Please let me stay I’ll work ever so hard, there are so many of your papers and writings need to be properly archived and reports written.”

The Chief Inspector was about to object but Miss Wareham spoke first.

“But what if such a dreadful thing should happen again?”

“Oh... Miss Wareham... it...” he spluttered, aware the eyes of the Chief Inspector were fixed on him.

“Madam.” Miss Wareham said quietly, her eyes meeting his.

He always avoided using this form of address as he found it servile and believed it an address only used by housemaids.

“Yes Madam.” he answered without giving it a second thought, any pride he possessed had long since been swallowed. “It will not happen again, I promise.”

“Males are slaves to their urges, you cannot guarantee such a ghastly and upsetting situation will not raise its ugly head again.” The Chief Inspector objected.

His mouth suddenly went dry as he knew she was right. His eyes silently pleaded with Miss Wareham.

“If I do accept you back into my household, what can we do to prevent such a dreadful reoccurrence?” she asked.

His eyes fell to the floor; he did not wish to answer although he knew he had to. Miss Wareham looked at him impatiently.

“You do wish to remain in my employ?” she asked, her finger lifting his chin so that their eyes met once more, he heard the Chief Inspector cough as if to seek permission to speak.

“Oh yes Madam...please...” he blurted eagerly.

 Miss Wareham continued, her tone becoming slightly irritable.

“Then what safety measures should we take to ensure there will not be any further disgusting  displays of male behaviour?”

He could practically feel the Chief Inspector’s breath on his neck and the smell of the police station cells in his nostrils, their threatening occupants loomed large in his mind’s eye once more. Surely anything would be preferable to such a fate. He knew the answer that would save him from incarceration, he had to close his eyes as the words formed in his mouth.

“A girdle... Madam.” he murmured and his eyes opened and began to mist, he felt a tear form.

“Oh do speak up Florence.” she admonished him “The Chief Inspector cannot hear you.” 

“I...I...”he swallowed hard and seeing her disapproving look, took a deep breath and raised his voice, “I should wear a girdle.”

“Are you sure? I would like to assure the Chief Inspector I am in no danger.”

The Chief Inspector’s face took on a look of scepticism, he saw she was about to raise an objection and he suddenly realised his fate was in the balance. There was a renewed urgency in his tone.

“Oh yes Madam...yes... definitely...a girdle. I should wear a girdle.”

“A wise decision, dear boy.” Miss Wareham smiled, her face softening once more as she  patted him on the thigh before she addressed the Chief Inspector, “Knowing he is securely girdled will give me a great deal of comfort Chief Inspector. As I have told you he has already experienced the beneficial effects of such a restricctive feminine garment.”

“I am not entirely convinced Miss Wareham. ”the Chief Inspector said, eyeing the young man suspiciously but he perceived her tone was not as hostile as before.”However, as you have recalled he was quite docile when he was girdled previously and if you are still willing to employ him until his arraignment then I have no objection but you will have to present him at the police station every week until then.”

He looked anxiously to Miss Wareham.

“I see no objection to that, do you Florence?” she said.

“Oh no, Madam.” he gushed, relief sweeping over him.

“Would it be an imposition, Chief Inspector,”Miss Wareham said “if you could check on him here rather than me having to visit a police station. We could take the opportunity to become better acquainted.”

“Of course Miss Wareham. I’d be delighted.” the Inspected gushed. “I suppose I could assess how efficient he is as a secretary, it would be helpful when I make my report to the judge.”

Miss Wareham was looking at the young man and seemed slightly distracted and her mind suddenly seemed to be elsewhere.

“Yes...yes...” Miss Wareham said, dragging her eyes away from him to face the Chief Inspector “of course...yes that would be most helpful.”

The young man, still giddy from his narrow escape, observed Miss Wareham and the Chief Inspector’s eyes meet and without a word being spoken the Chief Inspector rose from her seat, indicating her intention to leave.

“The idea of a firm ladies foundation garment controlling the ghastly male urge is most intriguing Miss Wareham.” the Chief Inspector said as she adjusted her skirt to her satisfaction” I would dearly like to see the results but unfortunately I have a very important engagement.”

“Oh that will easily be arranged, Chief Inspector.” Miss Wareham smiled, much to the unease of the young man.

 Miss Wareham accompanied her to the door, without a moment’s hesitation he moved ahead of them to open it and bowed his head, they continued their conversation, ignoring his gentlemanly gesture.

As they moved through the hallway he once again moved to the front door and opened it, feeling a sense of relief that he would soon be free of the Chief Inspector.

“I do hope you are not making a mistake reinstating him as your secretary Miss Wareham.” the Chief Inspector said placing her peaked hat on her head. “Despite even the most restrictive girdle, the male impulse may attempt to impose itself.”

“Perhaps you may right Chief Inspector.”Miss Wareham answered extending her hand to the other woman before her eyes returned to the timid figure holding on to the door as if his life depended on it. “Time will tell.”

 

Epilogue.

Chief Chief Inspector Joyce was still two metres away from the large oak door when she saw it open. Behind the capped and aproned housemaid that opened the door  stood an imperious woman dressed in a  pale gold dress of shimmering taffeta which flared out as a consequence of the several layers of stiff petticoats beneath. Her padded shoulders exaggerated the obviously well corseted waist.

“Welcome to Mantell Hall ChiefInspector “Lady Mantell smiled as she gestured to the uniformed maid beside her to fetch the policewoman’s cases from the waiting gleaming black Daimler.

“Thank you for the invitation Lady Mantell.” the Chief Inspector answered as Lady Mantell stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Cecily has told me so much about you and how you were most helpful but more importantly, most discreet, regarding the most unfortunate incident at her home.”

As they walked across the highly polished black and white tiled floor, the silence broken by the sound of two pairs of heels clicking with every step, the Chief Inspector was the first to speak.

“Yes Lady Mantell, your invitation came as quite a surprise.” The Chief Inspector said, her eyes taking in the splendour of the spacious vestibule, her face clearly revealing her surprise and suppressed excitement at her good fortune to be invited to such an exclusive gathering of society matrons in the opulent surroundings of Mantell Hall.

“Miss Wareham is very kind,” the Chief Inspector continued “I was glad to be of assistance, but I was and remain concerned about the presence of a male...her secretary, in her home. She has taken some very necessary and wise precautions however, having witnessed some...ahem...disagreeable male characteristics ...I don’t think a male secretary is appropriate for a lady of Miss Wareham’s sensibilities and social standing.”

A tall thin woman dressed in a calf length black dress with a white starched and ruffled high collar approached them.

“I will have one of the housemaids bring the Chief Inspector’s luggage to her room, Madam.” she said

“Thank you Perkins.” Lady Mantell answered and gestured her companion towards the wide staircase.

“Perkins, my housekeeper is invaluable.” Lady Mantell said as they mounted the stairs together “She ensures my household runs like clockwork.”

“I’m curious Lady Mantell, and perhaps it is the policewoman in me,” the Chief Inspector said as they reached the top of the stairs “Why did you invite me for the weekend.”

“As I said you were very helpful to my dear friend and she also confided in me, that as you have already said, you were most concerned for her safety. I usually have a gathering of some very dear friends and I hoped to welcome you to our circle. This is a small gesture of my gratitude.”

The Chief Inspector smiled, she knew Lady Mantell to be one of the most prominent figures in society and had very powerful and influential friends. This could only benefit her career.

Coming to a halt at a door Lady Mantell knocked lightly, opened it and entered, Miss Wareham looked up from her desk and crossed the room.

 “Chief Inspector, how wonderful you could come.” she greeted the policewoman with a kiss on both cheeks. “You’re no doubt curious about your ‘person of interest” as I believe you policewomen say.”

“As you can see Chief Inspector, Miss Wareham is quite safe.”Lady Mantell laughed lightly.

“ I confess, Miss Wareham, I was most concerned about you, considering as how  we both witnessed your male secretary displaying such abhorrent masculine tendencies.” the Chief  Inspector replied, a note of apprehension in her voice as she looked around the room for any signs of the young man. “I’m not sure a male was the correct choice for such a position.”

Lady Mantell smiled but said nothing.

“That is so kind of you.” Miss Wareham said “But your presence was quite enough to ensure his obedience and for that I am extremely grateful as it solved a difficult problem for me.”

“Well, I suppose you did say he was efficient.” The Chief Inspector said, her eyes still discreetly searching the room.

“That’s not what I meant.” Miss Wareham said.

The policewoman  looked slightly puzzled.

“Perhaps a small sherry before we continue.” Lady Mantell said and gestured to the large sofa. Miss Wareham picked up a small silver bell and rang it.

“I believe you are acquainted with my maid, Chief Inspector.” Miss Wareham said as a fully uniformed servant in three inch heels tottered somewhat ungainly into the room and curtsied.

“You rang Madam?” the maid said and seeing the Chief Inspector gasped audibly.

“I...you mean...it’s ...”the Chief Inspector blurted as she took in the sight in front of her.

“Yes Chief inspector.” Miss Wareham said “The unfortunate incident with my jewels cost me a maid but after your visit that particular problem was solved. And I have regained another servant. An unusual arrangement, I grant you but needs must.”

“He has agreed to become ...”the Chief Inspector exclaimed, looking at both women and still coming to terms with the image before her, “...your maid.”

“Well not agreed, exactly.” Miss Wareham, looking at her new maid, laughed  “it was more of a mutual understanding. Considering the alternative, I believe he had little choice. But you are adapting to your new role. Isn’t that right, Florence?”

“Yes Madam.” the young man replied sheepishly, eyes downcast.

“And he does look the part, does he not, Chief Inspector?” Miss Wareham said with a self-congratulatory smile “Perhaps not as pretty as my previous girl but he has potential I think.”

“How... I... it’s almost...a male in a maid’s uniform...”the policewoman stammered, still scarcely believing her eyes.” You must tell me everything.”

“Oh it was quite simple really.” Miss Wareham replied “As I said once you had left I gave him a choice become my maid or I would immediately call you to have him returned to the cells.”

She looked at her maid who was becoming increasingly anxious.

“Of course there was pleading and tears but within fifteen minutes I had him in one of my corselettes, a slip and stockings. After that we visited the maid’s room and choose a grey morning uniform. It was a bit loose but fitted reasonably well. As I knew you were coming this weekend I wanted you to see him at his best so I had this one specially made for him. I hope you approve.”

The Chief Inspector still struggled for words but she nodded her approval.

“As he is new to domestic service,” Lady Mantell explained to the Chief Inspector “I’d suggested to Cecily that a few days under the guidance of Perkins, my housekeeper, would be most beneficial.”

She then addressed the maid.

“And have you have learned a lot about the duties of a housemaid, my dear?” Lady Mantell asked in a gentle tone.

“Oh yes, your ladyship.” he volunteered immediately and curtsied once more. “Miss Perkins is most helpful and kind.”

The Chief Inspector, after recovering from the surprise could tell that his response contained more than a degree of trepidation. Her recollection of Perkins face was anything but kind

“And you are beginning to like your new position?” Lady Mantell continued.

“Oh yes, your ladyship, it is most rewarding.” the maid repeated with an enthusiasm that seemed to the Chief Inspector more forced than genuine. He paused for a moment or two and looking at Miss Wareham and continued “My mistress is most kind in giving me the opportunity to be her maid.”

“And such a lovely uniform your mistress has provided you with. My own servant girls are so jealous.” Lady Mantell said “The Chief Inspector was concerned about those hideous male parts you possess. Why don’t you lift your skirts and let her see how they have been...shall we say... adjusted in order to allow you to function as a properly trained servant girl.”

The Chief Inspector thought she saw a moment’s hesitation but if there was one it quickly passed and he lifted his skirt and several layers of petticoats to reveal an almost knee length  girdle with heavy satin panelling that reach to his lower ribcage. The groin area was quite smooth and seemed devoid of male genitalia.

“As you can see Chief Inspector,” Miss Wareham “There is little danger of a repeat of what you witnessed when we last met. Please feel free to examine her yourself.”

Despite his utter shame, the Chief Inspector could see the young man winced visibly at Miss Wareham’s use of the pronoun ‘her’.  He closed his eyes as the policewoman’s hand passed smoothly over his satin covered groin.

“Yes, very well secured. Almost perfectly feminine in appearance. Nothing obnoxious to be seen.” she said in a professional manner as her hand finally moved between his legs “Ah yes... here it is, but quite limp and barely discernible. I strongly doubt there would be any movement and even if there was it would be of little consequence.”

“Yes even if it did somehow manage to wriggle free one could not see anything under such a voluminous uniform.” Miss Wareham said “But he knows better than to allow that to happen. Perkins has unannounced inspections.”

Even though she had completed her examination he continued to keep his skirts raised. The first time he had been put through this humiliating exercise he had made the mistake of lowering his petticoats without being given permission by Miss Wareham. Six strokes of the cane by in front of the assembled maidservants by his mistress ensured he would never repeat the error. The instruction took a few more degrading seconds to come.

“You may lower your skirts, Florence.” Miss Wareham finally said.

“Thank you, Madam.” he answered quietly and automatically curtsied.

He allowed them to drop and then instinctively began fluffing out his dress to arrange the petticoats properly, careful to ensure the skirt covered the bulky layers. Finally, he smoothed his apron over the skirt.

“He does seem very meticulous about his appearance.” the Chief Inspector remarked.

“Oh he is.” Lady Mantell confirmed, “Perkins is very strict on housemaids who are slovenly or dishevelled. Since he has arrived he is one of the most organised and fastidious of our girls. Fussy, almost.”

The Chief Inspector could not take her eyes from him.

“When do you think his case will be reviewed Chief Inspector?” Miss Wareham asked. “I thought you might like to stay with me for a while...just to monitor his progress, you understand.”

The Chief Inspector looked at the male maid in front of her and smiled.

“Probably a few months.” she answered.

“Excellent, I was hoping you would say that.” Miss Wareham smiled “Florence should be quite well trained by then.”

The three women looked at him.

“Isn’t that right Florence?”  Miss Wareham asked.

The young man winced and fidgeted at his apron.

“Yes Madam.” he replied and curtsied.