Marie, The Unlucky Housemaid
by Jessica Verdi
Author's note: This is a revised version of a previously posted story, taking
into account the constructive criticism I received from various readers.
Chapter 1 - A Dog's Dinner
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
The big grandfather clock struck five. It surely wouldn't be long before
Lord Smethrington arrived back from his shooting trip. For Marie, the moment was
one of anticipation and dread. It meant that it would soon be teatime.
A mass of footsteps then the deep gravelly tones of middle-aged men
could be heard in the hallway. When the study door creaked open six stout men
came in, all wearing their hunting tweeds. Marie became agitated. She wasn't
expecting her Master to bring back visitors.
"Whisky, Stephen?" Lord Smethrington offered, standing next to the
drinks cabinet.
"Spot on, Smethers. I deserve a double I think!"
While the six gentlemen had their favourite tipples poured from crystal
decanters they continued their animated conversation about the thirty brace of
grouse they had bagged that afternoon.
"Gentlemen! May I say that was top shooting all round this afternoon.
Cheers to you all!"
A hearty chorus of 'Cheers!' was returned heartily by the other men.
Lord Smethrington was always the most congenial host as well as the landowner of
some of the finest game shooting in the county.
"Let's all sit down and relax while the kitchen prepares your birds for
you."
Marie feared that any moment now, she would become the topic of their
conversation.
They herded themselves over to the fireplace which was surrounded by
three burgundy leather Chesterfield sofas. One of the men spotted Marie and he
grinned with delight. "And what do we have here then?" He moved closer for a
better look.
"Oh, don't mind her. That's Marie, a pretty young maid for sure, but
rather clumsy. She dropped a box of the wife's best china a few days ago. This
is to teach her a lesson."
Marie's fair skin acquired a deep red blush and she cast her eyes down
as the men approached her. The six gentlemen looked down at poor Marie with not
an ounce of sympathy between them.
On the antique Persian rug in front of the log fire lay Marie, on her
belly, shame-faced and neatly hog-tied. Bands of thick white rope held her
wrists fully drawn back and secured to her stocking-clad ankles. Several bands
of rope were wrapped around her upper chest and provided the tie-off point for
the wrist and ankle ropes high up on her back. Neat loops around her thighs
ensured her legs remained chastely closed. The white of the rope contrasted
delightfully with the black satin of her maid's uniform. The wispy strands of
Marie's red hair peeked out from under the maid's headpiece giving the only
touch of colour to her ensemble.
Lying helplessly on her belly had caused her short skirt to ride up,
revealing a glimpse of the smooth young skin of her thigh, as well as black
stocking tops with a garter attached. All the men observed this tantalising
sight but it would have been poor etiquette for gentlemen to comment on such a
thing!
"She's a good girl really, only just turned seventeen years old, but
like all the younger housemaids she still needs some firm discipline on a
regular basis." He stood over her to check the housekeeper's rope-work. "Marie!"
"Yes Master?" She looked up at him timidly, her pale blue eyes welled up
with tears.
"Have you been a good girl today?"
"Yes Master, I cleaned the bed chambers in the morning and at midday the
housekeeper tied me up as you instructed. I've been laying here like a good girl
since then." Marie replied meekly.
That wasn't quite true. In the middle of the afternoon she had a little
tantrum, frantically tugging against the ropes. Her exhausting but futile effort
was followed by half an hour of gentle self-pitying sobbing.
To her great embarrassment she noticed that one of the men present was
the young Lord Barkerstall. She had an infatuation for this handsome man since
she first encountered him while working in silver service at a dinner party.
That evening he had smiled at her many times as she served him the various
courses. He seemed impressed by her coy prettiness, while she became absurdly
fixated with him. Marie foolishly hoped that one day she might be able to enter
his employment if only she could impress him again. Now that he had seen her
bound and humiliated at his feet, he would surely realise that she was just
another clumsy stupid housemaid!
"How long do you intend to keep the girl restrained like this?" asked
Barkerstall.
"Oh. Not very long really. From midday until nine in the evening for
three consecutive days, and this happens to be her third day. I admit that it's
not much of a punishment; so after she is released every evening, she goes
straight up to her bed chamber to receive ten strokes of the cane before being
put to bed. Perhaps if I still have the pleasure of your company at that time,
you could come up and watch. I'm sure that would put you in the right frame of
mind before returning home to your fine lady wife!" He gave Barkerstall a
knowing wink.
Barkerstall was flattered that he had become such a regarded friend of
the esteemed Lord Smethrington. "I should like that very much Sir, and would
consider it an honour to witness how maids are correctly disciplined."
"Then it's agreed, my young man. The honour would be mine if you would
consent to contributing a few of the strokes yourself!"
The host switched his attention to another guest: Lord Fothringham had
been admiring Marie's lovely young body as she shifted slightly in her tight
rope bondage. He considered himself a connoisseur in matters pertaining to the
punishment of women and young girls. The notorious disciplinarian had a question
of his own for Smethrington. "Don't you think she is getting off rather lightly,
laying there idly when there is so much work in maintaining your fine house?"
Smethrington laughed. "Yes, my old friend, you are right of course. But
there always seems to be one maid or another that needs punishment so our
staffing rotas have this taken into account." He noticed a moment in the
doorway. "Talking of maids, here comes the lovely Sylvie, it must be Marie's tea
time."
Sylvie, demure and almost too elegant for a housemaid, immaculate in her
black and white maid's uniform entered the room. She curtsied towards the men
but averted her eyes from theirs, and carried the small silver tray over to
Marie. The tray, with its two shallow silver bowls was placed on the rug about a
foot in front of Marie's nose. With another curtsey to the gentlemen, Sylvie
quietly exited the room, relieved that she had not drawn attention to herself.
She was Marie's dearest friend but knew better than to speak with or touch her
hog-tied colleague at such a time.
Marie's stomach rumbled, having had neither food nor water since
breakfast. Eyeing the contents of the bowls hungrily, she felt her mouth
watering. She strained her neck to look up at her master, hoping he would give
the signal to begin eating.
"You may eat when the clock strikes the half hour." Smethrington
instructed.
Marie knew all to well that the clock chimed ever quarter hour so
figured it might only be a few minutes before the half hour. She concentrated
her stare on the bowls to the exclusion of all else.
The clock chimed twice. "Alright, Marie. You may eat now."
Marie was aware of the men's amused laughing as she jerked and squirmed
on her belly, but it made no difference; she was hungry. Eventually she wriggled
herself the twelve inches to reach the silver tray and its contents. Her
tea-time meal tonight was the same as every night: One bowl contained water, the
other some dry dog biscuits. Calling it 'tea-time' was just another cruel
reminder of her punishment. At the same moment she knew that the other maids
would be sitting down to enjoy tea and cakes in the kitchen.
After lapping up some water (because she wasn't permitted to put her
lips in it), she picked up the first biscuit between her fine white teeth. It
was impossible to eat those hard biscuits without making a loud crunching sound.
At first the men at first found highly amusing, before realising that her noise
interfered with their ongoing conversation. It was shameful enough having to eat
in such lowly manner, but the intrusive noise from her constant crunching seemed
designed to embarrass her even further.
A female shout from the hallway interrupted the conversation.
"No, Barney, No! Come here!" The panicking maid's voice called out.
Barney, the exuberant springer spaniel bounded into the room with his
tail wagging. Within moments his nose had tracked down Marie's biscuits.
"No Barney, please don't," Marie pleaded softly with the dog. She was
helpless to prevent him chomping down all her biscuits and slurping up the
water, before giving her an affectionate and very wet lick across her mouth and
nose. Barney romped from the room of his own accord as quickly as he had
arrived.
The men roared with laughter as Marie tried in vain to suppress her
miserable tears rolling down her dog-wetted face. She knew that her master could
have grabbed the dog before he gulped down her biscuits. Marie decided she get
her revenge and steal some of Barney's biscuits when she fed him the following
morning.
"That'll teach her to eat her meal quicker in future, won't it?" Her
master chortled, caused another peel of laughter at Marie's expense.
The tearful, wet-faced and still-hungry Marie didn't notice handsome
Barkerstall's smile, which contained the same desire and lust for her as it had
at the dinner party; and perhaps, just perhaps, a trace of pity too.
-oOo-
After the gentlemen departed merrily on their way, warmed by their
drinks and the log fire, Marie found herself alone in with just the embers of
the log fire for company. She was utterly defeated and subdued by the ropes of
the housekeeper's expert hog-tie and her maid's corset seemed tighter than ever.
Lady Smethrington was 'at home' that evening, which meant she was
expecting visitors. Lord S had gone off to see somebody and wouldn't be back
until whipping time. So Marie was alone in the study with just a small dying
fire in the fireplace to keep her company until His return.
The door to the study was closed but Marie could still hear the sound of
the doorbell and the arrival of visitors. It was Lady S's needlework group for
their Wednesday evening get-together. Marie liked to serve the tea to this group
of ladies, as they were usually so very nice to her. She wanted to be in the
parlour serving their tea, not in the Master's study trussed up in his ropes.
The thought that the social evening would go on without her presence being
missed made her feel quite miserable. A large tear ran down her nose, tickling
her until she rubbed her nose back and forth on the rug to wipe it away.
Marie was supposed to stay on her belly, which they said was the correct
and most dignified position for a hog-tied maid, but she discovered that if she
rocked herself from side to side, with a little effort she could roll herself
onto her side. That meant she could bend a little at the hips, and in so doing,
obtain some relief from the continuous strain on her back. It was also a way of
passing some time: She stayed on her left side until the clock chimed the
quarter hour, then she would roll back onto her belly. When the clock chimed the
half hour she would rock herself onto her right side, the back onto her belly.
She would quickly roll back onto her belly if she heard somebody entering the
study. It was pathetic, but she thought herself quite clever that no-one had
discovered her little trick.
Midway through the evening Marie heard the distant sound of the grand
piano in the parlour. Lady S loved music and would always invite people to play
and sing. After a few charming minuets on the piano, she heard the beautiful
soprano voice of Isabella, the nineteen year old daughter of Lady S. She sang an
aria from Bellini's La Somnabula. How could such a horrible person have such an
angelic voice, Marie thought bitterly; Lord Smethrington should be punishing his
horrible daughter instead of their housemaids! She started tugging at her bonds
angrily just making things worse for herself.
Isabella sung three delightful bel canto arias before accepting the warm
applause and compliments of the house guests. Then there was a pause where the
scraping of chair legs on the polished floor signified that the room was being
rearranged. There followed what Marie thought of as 'proper music', a piano,
violin and cello playing Beethoven's 'Ghost' trio. It was nice, Marie thought,
but a little sad too.
During that piece the door to the study creaked open, and a frail voice
called out softly, and Marie quickly rolled herself back on to her belly.
"Psst. Marie?"
Marie recognised Lady Winthorpe's quivering voice instantly. Such a nice
old lady, always smiling and easy to please. But how did she know to find me in
here? Marie wondered.
"Ah, there you are, nice and warm by the fire."
The old dowager in her musty clothes and too many pearls came closer. "I
thought I would come and see how my favourite maid is fairing instead of falling
asleep during the music."
She studied Marie's petite form all parcelled up in the thick white
rope. "Oh dear dear, haven't they tied you up into a pretty bundle! It's a good
thing you young ones are so flexible."
"Yes, Ma'am. The ropes are tight, but I'm alright I think."
"Of course you are my dear. The Smethringtons always take such good care
of their girls. Some of the houses around here treat their maids quite
frightfully; it makes me feel faint to think of it. You really are such a lucky
girl."
Marie thought of her bondage, the regular caning, the tight corset they
made her wear. "Yes, I know," she said, rather than contradict the old dowager.
The old lady delved into her handbag and pulled out something wrapped in
paper.
"Look what I have for you?" she said, removing the paper from a small
piece of dark chocolate.
Marie's mouth began salivating as she stared transfixed by the small
cube of chocolate in the lady's hand. The old lady bent down creakily and Marie'
mouth was wide open and ready to receive the morsel, like a hungry chick in the
nest, but the old lady held it an inch or two out of her reach.
"Take it nice and gentle like a good girl," the old woman instructed,
and Marie felt her neck stretching like a turtle as she managed to bite the
chocolate gently and take it from the old ladies grasp. Did the old lady think
she was a little terrier that may bite her fingers off? Marie wondered.
Marie immediately moved the chocolate to the side of her mouth. Despite
her hunger, she was going to suck on the chocolate to make it last as long as
possible!
Lady Winthorpe tickled Marie's chin affectionately. "I will see you next
week, won't I?" she asked, somewhat uncertainly as if worried for her own self,
more than Marie.
"Yes Ma'am of course you will. I promise to serve your tea next week,"
Marie said, mustering up a reassuring smile that seemed to please the old lady.
"Bye bye Marie," Lady Winthorpe said with her frail and quivering voice
as she shuffled out of the study, gently closing the study door behind her.
-oOo-
Marie was still sucking on the small chunk of chocolate when the study
door opened again. She moved the remainder of the chocolate to the side of her
mouth so she might enjoy it later.
Marie's heart sank when she saw that Isabella had entered the study. She
had the widest, sweetest, cruellest smile on her face as she floated across the
room to stand in front of Marie.
"Did you hear my singing? They all said I was wonderful! Don't I look
lovely in my new dress?" Isabella spun around to show off the flowing silk on
her slim body.
"Yes, Miss Isabella. You look lovely," Marie conceded. It was true, she
did. She always looked lovely.
"And how are you doing Marie?" Isabella asked with the same smile on her
face. "You really do look quite pathetic all trussed up like our Christmas
goose. Does it hurt?"
"Yes. Miss Isabella. My whole body is aching terribly." Marie replied,
hoping for some pity.
"GOOD! You deserve it for being so careless with mummy's best china. I
don't know why my parents keep you here. You're not fit to be a maid in our
house, you're an embarrassment to the household. You're not even worthy enough
to lick my boots."
Marie fought back the tears brought on by Isabella's onslaught. She
didn't know why Isabella hated her so much, although the cook said it was
jealousy, because Marie was so much prettier. Marie assumed the cook was just
teasing her as everybody else did.
"Do you like my new boots?" Isabella asked, as if Marie was all of a
sudden her best friend.
"Oh yes, Miss Isabella. They are so lovely." Marie had a perfect view of
them, just inches from her nose. They were indeed beautiful. Powder blue shiny
patent leather, tightly laced to mid calf with a slim elegant heels. Marie could
only dream of wearing such elegant footwear.
Isabella sighed. "But they get dirty so easily. Perhaps, Marie, you may
be worthy enough to lick my boots. Why don't you try?"
Marie studied the shiny leather in front of her nose. The boots were in
pristine condition as if they had never been outdoors. With the remains of the
chocolate in her mouth there was a risk that Marie might dirty the boots instead
of cleaning them. She swallowed quickly, mourning the waste.
Then Marie stretched her neck slightly, stuck out her tongue
tentatively, and tasted the toe of the left boot. Isabella's foot stayed right
where it was indicating that Marie should continue her licking.
Seeing Marie's tongue darting in and out, pretending to clean her boots
Isabella wore the broadest of smiles and felt a shiver of pleasure go right
through her. When Marie looked up at her with those beautiful pleading eyes,
pale blue like her boots, Isabella felt something most peculiar stirring in her
body, peculiar, but very nice indeed! That was why she so loved to tease Marie.
Marie continued to lick as Isabella rotated her boot to offer her each
section in turn. Thankfully the boots were not coated with polish, so Marie
licked them thoroughly, fully extending her tongue around the heel and under the
arch, spurred on by Isabella's occasional words of encouragement. Perhaps, she
thought, Isabella might be nice to her if she does a satisfactory job.
She nearly had the boots licked with the study door creaked open. Lady S
looked in from the doorway.
"Ah, there you are darling. Would you like to sing another aria for us?"
"Oh, very well then." Isabella responded petulantly as if she really was
not inclined to do so. She loved singing and being adored for it, but would hate
anyone to know how much she craved their compliments.
"Darling, why don't you leave Marie alone now? It's no use our punishing
her if you then give her all your attentions. She will think she is being
rewarded not punished!"
"You are quite right Mummy, I really shouldn't be so kind to her. I'm
coming right now." Isabella walked away from Marie without a word or so much as
a backwards glance as she left the study.
Poor Marie was alone again, hoping desperately that Isabella was pleased
with her. Her fingers fumbled casually with the cord around her ankles. The
housekeeper knew what she was doing in matters of rope: All the knots were well
out of reach of Marie's exploring fingers. Marie's fingers touched her maid's
shoes. Her footwear looked acceptable only because she was responsible for
keeping them clean and shiny, but they were crude, poorly made and ill fitting.
She imagined that her fingers were touching those elegant patent leather boots
that Isabella wore, and that her tongue now knew intimately.
All she had to look forward to was a life of servitude. Living amongst
and caring for the fine things that she would never own; cleaning clothes that
she would never wear; licking shoes that she would never walk in.
Regardless of the punishment that awaited her, Marie's heart leapt for
joy when she heard the grandfather clock finally strike nine. Sylvie came
promptly to untie her. Marie was bewildered that despite hours of fruitless
struggles against the ropes, Sylvie just made couple of simple tugs on the cords
and the ropes fell away as if by magic.
-oOo-
Sylvie helped the weakened and unsteady Marie downstairs to their
quarters, where the lacing bar awaited her. Hanging from the ceiling in their
dressing room was a three-foot long iron bar. At each end were loops of thick
soft cord. It was so simple - the maid stood on the small wooden box beneath the
bar, inserted her hands through the loops and pulled down so the slip knots in
the cords tightened around her wrists. Then she stepped of the wooden box and
kicked it away. Et voila! She was helpless, unable to free herself without
somebody's assistance.
The maids were all familiar with the lacing bar, not just because of the
canings, such as Marie was about to receive, but because they encountered it
every day. Each morning she would use it for its primary purpose of holding her
body outstretched while being laced into her strict corset. It was the same
technique used by Lady Smethrington, who led by example in matters of corsetry.
Once Marie had been secured by the lacing bar, her hands held high,
Sylvie carried out the rest of her instructions. She had some torn cotton
sheeting in her hand.
"I'm so sorry Marie. Open your mouth up. I have to gag you tonight."
Sylvie said apologetically.
Marie frowned, but knew that Sylvie had to obey her instructions. She
opened her mouth and allowed it to be stuffed with a large volume of material.
Sylvie did not stop until Marie's mouth had been packed full to overflowing,
then she used a final piece as a tight cleave gag around her head to hold all
the packing in place.
Next Sylvie turned her attention to Marie's bottom. Her hands reached up
under Marie's skirt and located the skirt-cords. These were two short lengths of
thin fabric sewn to the inside waistband of Marie's dress. Marie never wore a
dress or skirt that didn't have these cords.
Sylvie lifted up the rear of Marie's skirt and used the skirt-cords to
bunch up the skirt fabric between it and its equivalent loop on the outside,
just like gathering a curtain. She pulled down Marie's panties so they dropped
to the floor. Hearing two pairs of heavy footsteps coming down the staircase
Sylvie quickly collected Marie's panties and disappeared into the safety of her
room.
"Ah, there she is!" Lord S said to Barkerstall as they emerged into the
maids' dressing room. They stood a few yards away to take in the view of fully
exposed Marie's pale buttocks and thighs above her stocking tops. "Isn't that a
rump fit for caning? There again, I seldom see one that isn't!" He laughed at
his own joke, while Barkerstall honoured him with a polite smile.
"Marie!"
She turned her head to look over her shoulder at her master. His fat
fingers probed the entrance of her mouth to test the fullness of its packing.
Luckily for Sylvie, he seemed satisfied.
"Decided to gag the girl after last night's outburst. Her pathetic
noises woke the little ones up. Most inconsiderate of her. Lady S was none too
pleased with either of us!" His fingers pinched Marie's chin to ensure she kept
her head turned towards them. "Notice the look in Marie's eyes. That's fear and
respect. This isn't a game, she knows how much these strokes are going to hurt.
Isn't that right Marie?"
Marie nodded weakly, her eyes moistening with tears. For just a split
second her eyes met Barkerstall's and she knew she was still infatuated with the
handsome young nobleman. Tied and gagged, and about to be soundly thrashed, she
felt utterly unworthy of Barkerstall's attention. It was as humiliating as it
was painful. It didn't occur to her that Barkerstall's being there might be a
sign of his interest in her.
Lord S picked up the cane that hung on a hook near the door. He swished
it through the air several times as if to warm up his swing, enjoying the almost
musical whooshing of the cane as it sliced through the air. He took up his
position with all the care of a golfer at the first tee. With great deliberation
he raised the cane in an elegant back-swing and let it fly.
Marie heard the cane a split second before it struck forcefully in the
middle of her buttocks. The pain seemed to reverberate through her, but so well
gagged and secured to the lacing bar was she that there was little outward
reaction other than a gentle swaying from her body. Lord S waited quietly in
position for the moment when Marie settled back into position, then immediately
struck again, and again, and again. After seven satisfying strokes he passed the
cane to young Barkerstall.
"Please. Be my guest!" Lord S said.
Barkerstall took the cane and swished it through the air to warm up. He
wasn't a big fan of corporal punishment, but like all gentry he accepted it was
an integral part of keeping discipline on a country estate. Unlike Lord
Smethrington, his interest in the female of the species extended beyond seeing
them as a canvas on which to practice his whipping strokes.
His first stroke made little impression on either Marie or her master.
Lord S tutted disapprovingly.
"Not bad, but I think we can improve on that," Lord S said tactfully.
"You have to find your ideal stance, then make a smooth back-swing then follow
smoothly and with power."
Lord S gripped Barkerstall's arms as he manhandled the young man into
place then showed him how to position his feet and how to grip the cane. It was
apparently more of an art than Barkerstall ever imagined.
"That's right my boy - a firm grip but not too tense. Nice smooth swing
back, rotate the body only slightly then forcefully forward, keeping a good
balance." Lord S took him through the process in slow motion several times.
Marie listened to the instructions great interest, almost forgetting
that she was about to suffer as a direct result of the coaching. At one point
she turned to look over her shoulder at the instruction, but Lord S saw her, and
with the merest stare from him she knew to turn around and await her next
punishment.
Barkerstall's next swipe was much better, at least from the men's point
of view. The next blow was better still, almost as good as Lord S himself. Marie
was disappointed to learn the cane hurt just as much regardless of the hand that
wielded it. Yet, somehow she felt different when Barkerstall did it, as if she
was being sacrificed by him and to him.
Barkerstall handed Lord S the cane. "Thank you Sir for allowing me to
contribute to Marie's punishment and for your excellent coaching."
Lord S laughed. "Oh, but we have one more to go. We can't possibly count
your first stroke, can we Marie?"
After a moment's hesitation Marie shook her head, mmmphing into her gag;
obligated to agree with her employer.
With Lord S's cajoling, Barkerstall lined up to deliver the last stroke,
determined to impress the old man, and briefly forgetting that those punished
buttocks he was taking aim at belonged to a young, innocent housemaid. That
final stroke was the worst, but again Marie felt different knowing that it came
from Barkerstall.
The two men approached the quivering object of their sport: Marie's
striped and swollen behind. The men's fingers lightly traced the lines across
her buttocks.
"I think that was my fourth," Lord S said proudly. "That's going to be a
beauty, it's welting already. That was my seventh. Another good mark. Probably
hurt her, that one."
"And this one is mine," Barkerstall offered, running a finger tenderly
but very deliberately over the full width of two exquisite but horribly marked
buttocks. For the first time he seemed aware of Marie's pain, and although
feeling a modicum of sympathy for the girl, felt no guilt at all. Marie,
meanwhile prayed he would keep running his fingers back and forward on her
buttocks for a while longer, and to her shame she must have shifted her body in
a fashion that made her desire clear. Lord S noticed it.
"I do believe she enjoys it when you stroke her like that." Lord S
commented, amused by Marie's little movements. "It mystifies me, but this kind
of punishment does peculiar things to some women. Hard to believe they can
become sexually aroused by a good solid caning. Hadn't noticed before, but maybe
Marie is of that disposition. Or perhaps it's you she likes!"
Barkerstall laughed. "You know, she is pretty thing in her way, and
quite shapely."
"All down to Lady S's corsetry I assure you. Young women these days have
no shape at all. As for being pretty - I do not care for the red hair. No, not
at all! Look at this."
He led Barkerstall around their victim to view to her front side, keen
to make his point. "This..." his said, using his finger and thumb to tug on
Marie's red pubic hair "...is most unattractive. Although of course you are
entitled to your opinion."
With a fraternal pat on the back Lord S led Barkerstall from the maid's
dressing room with the invitation of a 30 year old Glenmorangie nightcap before
his carriage arrived.
-oOo-
Sylvie came to release Marie from the lacing bar as soon as the
gentlemen had gone. She found her friend desperate to have the copious wadding
removed from her mouth, giving the impression she was about to choke. Sylvie
quickly emptied her mouth of its stuffing.
"He said I was pretty!" Marie blurted out, a beaming ecstatic smile
incongruous on her tear-stained face.
"Marie!" Sylvie stood hands on hips. "Everybody says you are pretty, but
you don't usually believe them. Now let's get you untied and ready for bed." She
helped Marie to undress, releasing her from the restrictive corset.
After putting on her nightgown, Marie went straight to bed - the bed she
shared, innocently, with Sylvie.
-oOo-
Morning came too quickly for Marie, disturbing her naive and hopelessly
infatuated thoughts of Lord Barkerstall. After a cold strip wash, Marie, Sylvie
and the other housemaids dressed for work. They donned their well-worn yet clean
white cotton chemise and their black stockings.
Marie was the first to slip her wrists up into the loops of the lacing
bar. The other maids fussed over her as they held the crude corset around her
torso, clipped together the busk in front, and then laced her in as tightly as
they could, leaving Marie momentarily breathless. Her slim youthful shape became
transformed into something quite dramatic. Her waist was nipped in by the corset
while her hips flaring elegantly below it. Marie proudly displayed a soft little
balcony of her pale breast formed at the top of her corset.
-oOo-
When Isabella's regular maid on other duties, or perhaps being punished,
Marie was called upon to help with Isabella's dressing and undressing. Marie
walked into Isabella's bedroom one evening to be greeted by the smile on
Isabella's face that showed how much she enjoyed having Marie.
"Hang the dress up properly, Marie, and make sure it doesn't crease."
Isabella smiled as she watched Marie stretch her lithe young body to put the
dress on the rail, studiously watching Marie's tiny waist and trim figure.
"Now loosen the laces of my corset!" Isabella commanded in her
coquettish voice.
Marie turned and curtsied, then moved behind Isabella. Unlike the maid's
crude but highly functional foundation garments, Isabella's own corset was a
work of art. The elaborately embroidered pink satin garment fitted Isabella
perfectly. Marie's fascination with Isabella's clothing equalled Isabella's
fascination with the young Marie.
Marie pulled apart the lace bow at the top of the Isabella's corset.
Then, hooking her fingers into the laces, she released the tension from one
eyehole at a time. Isabella enjoyed the liberating feeling of the gradual
release from her constricting garment.
The laces were soon loosened enough to allow Isabella to breathe deeply
and her bare breasts emerged like blossoming flowers.
Isabella raised her arms upwards in a luxuriating stretch. "Thank you
Marie, I'm so glad to be out of this thing."
Marie, in her much more constricting garment, was filled with envy but
gave Isabella a forced smile. Isabella stared at her maid, as if sizing her up
for something. Impulsively she jumped from the bed and pulled a small box from a
drawer by her bed.
"Look! Marie." She slowly opened the box. Marie was expecting to see
Isabella's latest gleaming trinket - perhaps another necklace. Instead, the
object did not gleam, although there was a dull shine to it. Isabella lifted it
out of the box with a reverence that Marie had never seen her show towards her
other jewelry. "My uncle gave them to me. Nobody else knows about them. Marie,
you must promise to tell nobody."
Marie studied the handcuffs warily, confused by Isabella's fascination
for them.
"Turn around Marie. I want to put them on you, just to see what they
look like. Don't worry. Look, here's the key!"
The maid turned her back to Isabella and held her hands together behind
her back. The last time she was handcuffed it was by a jailer with huge rough
hands. How different it was as she felt Isabella's slim fingers tentatively
clicking the cuffs around her wrists.
"I don't need the key for locking them, they just click shut," Isabella
explained. "They're not too tight are they? Can you escape from them?"
The maid tugged her wrists. She shook her head and almost laughed at the
idea that she could somehow escape. "No Miss Isabella, I cannot. I'm your
prisoner now."
Young Isabella shifted excitedly on the bed, savouring Marie's words.
"My Prisoner. I like that! How does it feel being handcuffed like that? You have
to tell me!" She was finding it hard to contain how thrilling it was having her
lovely maid as a prisoner.
"It feels nice. Much nicer than the last time I wore them." Marie
admitted.
"You've worn handcuffs before?" Isabella asked, surprised and almost
jealous.
"Yes when I was taken to prison last year. They kept me handcuffed like
this for three days."
Isabella screwed up her nose, repulsed yet fascinated by the thought of
being in handcuffs for days on end. She already knew that Marie had sent to
prison on a false charge of theft.
"It was awful. I couldn't feed myself, or dress or clean myself."
"I'm a prisoner too." Isabella announced with a sad frown; Her lips
down-turned in an expression that only spoilt rich girls can make. Marie looked
confused. Isabella could sometimes say the strangest things.
Isabella lifted her skirts and petticoats and pulled down her knickers,
giving her maid an unexpected view. "It's a chastity belt. Mama says if I want
to make my family proud then nobody, not even me, should touch my flower...
otherwise I might never marry. Only Mama and the head housekeeper have a key.
"Marie," Isabella added softly. "Have you ever had sex?"
The maid nodded in shame. "When I was in the prison, the guards
sometimes undressed me completely and tied me to the corners of the bed. Then
they would all have sex with me. Those are the only times." Marie added. "Do you
suppose any man would want to marry me if he knew that?"
"Of course they would," Isabella cheerfully comforted the maid "men of
the lower classes don't worry about a woman's maidenhead! Besides, you're quite
pretty for a maid."
Marie tugged her wrists against the iron cuffs that held them behind
her. "Miss Isabella, do you think you could release me from the shackles now?"
She pleaded nicely.
"Yes of course!" Isabella said excitedly, "I think it must be my turn to
try them." She fumbled with the key in the locks, removed the cuffs and handed
them straight to Marie - much to the maid's surprise.
Isabella turned her back to Marie and looked over her shoulder at her.
"Fit them on me like I did to you." Marie reluctantly locked the left one.
Isabella was trembling slightly. "Wait! I have a better idea. Lock me to
the bed post."
"But Miss Isabella, are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes of course. I only want to try it for a minute. Just to know what it
feels like. That's all." She moved to the thick oak post at the end of her
four-poster bed, and Marie reluctantly obliged her young mistress. Isabella's
doll-like face was a picture of blissful contentment, eyes closed, a little
smile on her lips. She pretended to fight against her shackles even though it
was evident that the bondage suffused her with pleasure.
Marie looked on nervously. Gazing at her beautiful mistress, chained to
her bedpost was stirring something inside her.
"I feel like I've been captured by pirates and chained to the ship's
mast. I'm a princess and they are going to sell me into slavery." Isabella said,
dreamily. "When you were kept in chains, Marie, what did you think about?"
Marie hesitated, but realised there was never a better time to confess
her fantasy to somebody. "I dreamed I was on a stagecoach, captured by robbers
in the middle of a large forest. They made us get out and handcuffed me to a
tree, just like you are now."
Isabella's face wore a look of concentration as she conjured up the
image. "Yes. I like that. Then what happened after they chained to the tree,
Marie. You must tell me everything!"
"Miss Isabella. Remember. It's only a story. It didn't really happen."
"Then tell me the story you imagined. Everything."
"Well, okay then," Marie continued hesitantly. "I was chained to the
tree much like you are to the bedpost. One of the bandits tore the dress off my
shoulders to look at my breasts. I was powerless to stop him from squeezing
them. He pulled the bodice down a little further until my nipples came free. He
pinched them hard between his fingers making me cry out with pain but he just
laughed, and said I was a dirty whore.
"Did it hurt you terribly when he pinched your nipples?" Isabella
enquired.
"It's only a story! No it didn't really hurt."
Isabella's breasts were heaving as she breathed, barely contained by her
loosened corset . Marie couldn't help herself, it was easy for her to push down
the fabric to reveal Isabella's firm pointed nipples. She pinched her mistress's
nipples to demonstrate.
"Ow!" Isabella gasped and winced at the slight pain but kept her eyes
closed. "Do it again, Marie, do it again." Isabella pretended to struggle, her
body writhing, fighting against yet so obviously enjoying her pretend captivity.
Marie was feeling distinctly uneasy, glancing occasionally at the
bedroom door, knowing it was unlocked. She knew it wasn't right to be treating
her mistress this way. "I think I should unlock you now Mistress. Where is the
key?"
Before Isabella could answer, they both heard the echoing sound of
clipping footsteps coming up the staircase.
"Haven't you got it? Marie." Isabella's eyes were now wide open.
"But Miss Isabella, I didn't need the key to put the cuffs on you."
"Maybe it's on the floor. I might have dropped it. Look on the floor.
Quickly!" Isabella was almost jumping with tension.
The footsteps had reached the top of the stairs. Isabella's struggles
against the iron cuffs became desperate and felt so different than before. "Oh
God. Please find the key, Marie. It's my mother coming."
There was no sign of the key on the floor or on the bed. They were both
frantic, each close to tears.
"Think, Miss Isabella. I beg you," Marie whimpered. "What did you do
with the key when you unlocked me?"
"I remember now! I tucked it in the top of my chastity belt."
Marie got onto her knees in front of Isabella, her hands feeling the top
hem of the chastity belt. There was no key.
"Maybe it's slipped down," Isabella suggested.
Just as Marie's fingers slipped beneath the section that covered
Isabella's sex the bedroom door opened.
Lady Smethrington stood in the doorway; her stout heavily corseted body
froze in momentarily shock, unable to believe what the maid was doing to her
daughter.
Her loud blood-curdling scream almost deafened the two girls and sent
the household staff scampering up the staircase to come to Lady Smethrington's
aid.
Isabella, her eyes wet with tears and sensing the trouble she would be
in, did the only thing she could think of. She looked pitifully at her mother
and cried out between her sobs. "Help me mummy!"
When Isabella refused to look at Marie, the maid knew her fate was
sealed.
End of Chapter 1 (of 2)
