Chapter 1

In the summer of 1898, four months past my twentieth birthday, my cousin Linda paid us a visit. Had she not, perhaps my life would’ve turned out very differently.

Despite the familial connection, I had met Linda only twice before, both when I was very young; I did not well remember her except to recall she was three years my senior. Though her family did not live nearby, she had, two months previously, taken a role in a house as a serving maid for a wealthy family on the outskirts of Bourton-on-the-Water, eight miles from our village of Coln St Dennis. She came to visit on her first available opportunity, no doubt keen to regale us with the wealth of her employers and thus the reflected fortune of her appointment.

“…Nine bedrooms, if you could believe such a thing, and they have three drawing rooms, and their pantry is almost as big as this whole house!” She spoke with genuine delight at her providence.

“I’m sure it is.” That was my mother. She had not looked up from her knitting, and her tone suggested that though this must be very exciting for Linda, it did not necessarily mean everyone else would likely find it so.

“But is it not a lot for you to clean?” asked my younger sister, Laurel, who, at sixteen, was very practical, often exuberant, but not at all full of fluff, despite her innocence.

“Well, I do not clean it all myself,” Linda replied. “There are three serving maids all-told. Granted, I am the most junior, but then I have not been there but many weeks at all.”

Linda did not stay long as she had to bicycle the miles back to Bourton, and we all (except Mother) trooped out dutifully to admire the lady’s bicycle that she had been loaned for the journey (“One of the first of its kind!”). I wasn’t disappointed to see her go, but she promised to visit with us again when she next had a day to herself, perhaps two months hence.

I watched her peddle away; the bicycle looked like hard work, and not at all easy in all those skirts.

It was not long after she left that my father, who had mostly kept to himself during Linda’s visit, expressed his opinion. “It is a decent enough occupation for a girl. You should consider it, Emily.”

I did not know quite how to respond to that and so said nothing, thinking that instead I might wish another occupation that perhaps allowed me more time to myself than a day every two months. I didn’t fancy a life of cleaning for a wealthy family who would be unlikely to notice whether or not I was there.

Nevertheless, I had held my tongue when Father first raised the idea, and therefore could not reproach him when, scarcely a fortnight later, he entered the drawing room in excitement to inform the household in general, and me in particular, that he had secured me bed and board as a serving maid “with good prospects”.

I was to leave the very next day. Laurel cried, and even Mother informed me that she would miss me.

In retrospect, it was obvious that I was very fortunate, though at the time I did not appreciate quite what was in store for me. Yet to obtain such a role and at such a residence was a grand coup indeed, and I could imagine I was the envy of many a girl from the area.

The address to which I had been appointed was the estate at Laxton, near to Mansfield, far to the north. I was to come to learn it was considerably grander than the house where my cousin Linda was employed. Laxton had sixteen bedrooms and numerous state rooms, drawing rooms, a library, servants’ quarters and such, supported with extensive gardens and grounds.

It emerged my father had been in correspondence with a Mrs Dempster, with whom he had been acquainted some years previously, and thus had familiarity. It was she, I was informed, who was responsible for managing the various maids, of which Laxton apparently employed quite a number.

The following day I left early in the morning, even before the sun was up. First by post from our village to take coach from Burford, and from there to Oxford. Father rose to bid me goodbye and to remind me to keep my manners. Mother had apparently not slept particularly well and therefore had elected not to rise, due to the unseemly hour. At the last minute, my sister Laurel appeared clad in her nightshirt and hugged me fiercely.

On arrival at Oxford, I took a train as far as Mansfield, which had proximity to Laxton. It was my first time travelling by train, and I found it quite thrilling. Arriving at Mansfield in the early afternoon I looked for a girl named Lucy, another maid employed at Laxton, as per my father’s prior instructions. I understood she had been visiting family and was now returning to the estate. The station was not too busy, and anyway contained few girls travelling unescorted, as one might expect, thus she was not too difficult to locate.

Lucy was a very pretty, friendly-looking girl, and she greeted me warmly.

One of the Laxton coaches had been sent to collect us and our chests, an unexpected courtesy that was most welcome and saved the complexity of having to procure our own transport. To my eyes it was a very fine carriage and pulled by four; far larger than the post I had taken from my home earlier in the day.

Lucy’s chest was quite small, as she had been away only three days, but mine was somewhat larger. Despite this, Lucy expressed surprise that it was all I had brought. I did not say that it would have been difficult to bring more, given that the chest contained all the clothes I owned and still had room for some small, personal and cherished trinkets. Moreover, were it to have been any heavier, I could not imagine lifting it on and off the train without assistance.

The footman hoisted my heavy chest on top of the stage as though it were empty, and I couldn’t help but find him a little daunting. He was a very large man with ever so broad shoulders. Unlike my father, he was clean-shaven, but his mouth seemed to wear a permanent scowl which, combined with his bushy, black eyebrows, made him seem quite sinister.

I was a long way from home and, despite Lucy’s company, felt quite alone, though I found it reassuring that she did not seem nervous in his presence. Nevertheless, neither the intimidating footman nor the length of the trip had lessened my excitement of travelling – which was, for me at least, a new experience. I particularly anticipated our arrival at the estate itself.

Once past the gatehouse, the road wound gently between rows of well-established trees for some time before the house finally came into view. The residence seemed to stretch on and on, with a frontage of at least two-score large windows overlooking the entrance to the central courtyard. The carriage continued within, the horses turning a wide circle to finally stop before a flight of steps that rose up toward the main entrance, a door of considerable size and grandness.

The house was truly magnificent and incredibly daunting, predominantly white in its aspect, with much marble and majestic columns. While it was no doubt architecture of the highest quality, I found it difficult to look past my own awe-struck feelings of inadequacy. How on Earth was I to find my place in such a grand estate?

Lucy opened the door to our carriage and stepped down first, clearly more at ease than I. Making a conscious effort not to gape, I followed her. I hardly noticed the indifference the footman continued to show us or the lack of civility in not opening our door; Lucy had clearly expected as much and sensibly aided our alighting. He unloaded our chests, though somewhat less than gently. I made no objection as my possessions were deposited unceremoniously onto the gravel, feeling I wasn’t in a position to reproach him. It was not long before he had taken his rest once again and the driver geed the horses on.

“This way then, girls, let us not stand idle,” came a strict voice from my left, surprising me, so distracted had I been by the facing of the house and the departure of the stage. A quite severe-looking woman stood nearby, dressed reasonably well in a long, pleated, grey dress. She was probably in her early thirties, but the tightness of her braid and the sternness of her countenance made her seem older – or at least most intimidating. She gestured towards a small door to one side, sequestered discreetly; indeed, I had not observed it before.

Lucy quickly picked up her smaller case and walked towards her. I tried not to tarry as, with an effort, I lifted my heavier chest and struggled across the gravel.

“Come, come,” urged the woman impatiently, clearly with no intention of assisting me.

It took me some time to haul my chest through the door, along various corridors, up several flights of steps and finally to the room in which I was evidently to reside. Lucy cast me the occasional sympathetic look and appeared to want to help me, but there was only one handle and thus I had to manage alone. In any event, she had accompanied me; it seemed we were to be roommates.

The room I was guided to was clearly shared by several other girls for there were four beds in all, yet I had still at least twice the space I enjoyed at home, sharing with my sister.

I placed the chest at the foot of my bed and was all ready to collapse on to it, exhausted, when I noticed the disapproving look from the severe-looking woman by the door.

“You will need to bathe, then,” she stated. “Quite clearly your journey has left you in no fit state to be seen.”

It seemed one was not allowed to perspire in the house. This did not bode well for any future hard work – such as cleaning, for instance.

“Dinner will be attended at eight-thirty,” she continued, “but you are to gather by eight o’clock.”

I was to learn that the servants ate after the rest of the household, who usually dined at seven.

She turned and left, with a final, “Emily, Lucy will see to you.”

I admit I was quite glad to see her gone.

“She’s a bit of a dragon!” Lucy whispered, the moment the door had closed. She had echoed my thoughts quite accurately, and I fought to restrain a nervous giggle.

“Who is she?” I asked.

“Mrs Dempster,” she said as if I should know, her surprise quite evident. “Did you not meet her during your interview?”

“I didn’t have an interview.” So that was the Mrs Dempster my father knew. I wondered what form their previous acquaintance had taken.

“Really?” Lucy seemed quite taken aback by this development, but recovered momentarily. “Come, we must see to our bathing.”

She led me from the room and briefly down the corridor, before turning into what was the most enormous washroom. Several bathtubs lined the centre of the room, and I was astounded to see rows of large, copper pipes running across the sides of the room to terminate in what could only have been shower heads.

Lucy was watching my expression. “Yes, we are extremely modern here,” she announced, as though she had herself devised the plumbing. “There are many things that are done at Laxton that are well ahead of the times.”

As she spoke, she began to strip off her clothing, tossing it unceremoniously into a basket to one side. From the room and her manner, it was clear that bathing was to be communal. I wasn’t enamoured with that idea. But as she continued to disrobe, soon to be unclothed, I judged it wisest not to lag behind. I unbuttoned my dress and pulled it over my head, then focused intently on removing the remainder of my clothing, not quite comfortable with the nude proximity of the heretofore unknown Lucy, who, unashamed in her nakedness, had walked towards one of the wall-mounted showerheads and activated it by pulling a pair of long chains.

I could not delay unduly and soon was naked too, and though there were shower heads alongside both the walls of the washroom, felt it would be rude to choose one distant from Lucy’s. I busied myself with the chain mechanism, aware that Lucy was regarding me openly and frankly.

“You are very beautiful,” she said to me.

I turned to look at her in surprise, but at that moment cold water deposited upon my head and I gasped, spluttering, and had to swallow a shriek.

Lucy giggled.

“You have to use both chains to get the right temperature.” She stepped from her shower to mine, her closeness quite disconcerting. I tried not to look at her, regarding instead the chains as she instructed me on controlling the flow of water, and soon, to my surprise and delight, I had engineered a very pleasant flow of water under which to bathe.

I was aware of Lucy washing herself beside me and watching me while she did so.

“I like your breasts,” she remarked. “They are not too large or too small, and you have very fine nipples.”

I was absolutely certain I did not know how to respond, and felt my cheeks flame to be so appraised.

Lucy was not finished.

“Overall, I think you have a very fine figure. It is no wonder you were employed here.”

I wondered why the fineness or otherwise of my figure would have any bearing on my employment.

“You will need to do something about that, though, of course,” she added, and appeared to have gestured toward my pubic region.

Surprised, I looked at her, and though, with propriety, my eyes were largely focused on her face, I could not help but notice her nakedness. Lucy was certainly a very beautiful girl, and I thought her far finer than I. Her breasts were larger than mine and her hips curvier, and it was then that I noticed with great surprise that where I naturally wore a thick thatch of dark pubic hair, Lucy had nothing at all. She was completely bare, and it was possibly the most shocking thing I had ever observed. It was completely outrageous: it left her no modesty or cover; more, it served to flaunt her womanhood in the basest of ways, as if to draw attention. I found myself unable to look away, despite my embarrassment and the heat rising in my cheeks.

“What has happened to your hair?” I blurted, unable to stop myself.

“Do you like it?” she asked, turning towards me so that I could better see while she raised her arms lightly about her head. I noticed, too, that the underside of her arms was smooth, as indeed were her legs, on further appraisal.

I considered her nakedness, transfixed despite myself, and decided that she looked so beautifully feminine, so smooth and inviting, that I could only nod my approval, my cheeks flaming crimson with the discomfiture of the encounter. I felt far more earthy, as though I was unrefined, and she, in comparison, the very image of sophisticated exquisiteness.

“Yes, I like it too,” she stated, as though I had voiced my approval. “It is another example of the things we do here at Laxton that are well ahead of the times. I think it will catch on, don’t you?”

I wondered exactly how one shared such a fashion in polite society, and held my opinion.

“Here, I will fetch you a razor,” she said, stepping from beneath her shower. She paused to regard me for a moment, before adding, “And perhaps some scissors.”

She walked naked and dripping across the tiled floor to a medium-sized cabinet set against the wall. I couldn’t help but admire the firmness and shape of her derriere. She really was very beautiful.

She bent slightly to open a drawer beneath the cabinet and then looked back at me over her shoulder, and I blushed furiously and lowered my eyes, but not before I had seen her smile to have caught me peeking.

In a moment she had returned with three items: a pair of scissors with small, sharp blades; a stick of shaving soap; and a razor quite unlike the cutthroat blade I had seen my father use on rare occasion.

She saw my surprise. “It’s a new design. It’s called a ‘safety razor’.” She showed me how the small blade was mounted between two slim pieces of wood. “It is far easier to use under your arms. And elsewhere.” You will not cut yourself. It is another example — ”

“— Of the things we do here at Laxton that are ahead of the times?” I finished for her.

She laughed. “Take your time, but do not tarry. We are due in the servant hall at eight o’clock, and we need still to get you your uniform.” And with that she took a towel and left, wrapping it around her even as she walked out into the corridor.

Apprehensively, I eyed the items she had placed in my hands.

Surely my legs were the safest place to begin.

I placed the scissors on the shelf beside the shower and started with the stick of soap, stepping back under the shower to re-wet my skin and began to work up a lather. I grimaced at how quickly the long hairs on my legs served to raise the lather, feeling again that sense of unkempt hygiene in comparison to the smoothness of Lucy’s body. I shaved carefully, not fully trusting the safety razor, yet finished quickly and without incident. Afterwards, my legs and under-arms tingled, sensitive under the water spray as I rinsed off the remnants of the shaving soap. Regarding myself as best I could, I considered the effort well worth it.

I had been putting it off, but now had no choice but to consider the thatch between my legs. The thought of using the razor there – safety or not – did not inspire me, and anyway Lucy had not made it clear that I must be shaved like her. I spent some industrious moments with the scissors, trimming as short and as tidily as I could manage. Then, conscious of time, I cut off the shower and returned the shaving items back to the drawer. I discovered a small bowl for what looked like used razor blades and deposited mine accordingly.

“Hurry up, Emily,” I heard Lucy call from the corridor, and I quickly turned and grasped a towel, clutching it to me as I stepped from the shower room.

“There you are,” she said, and she was now fully clothed in her maid’s attire: white blouse with sleeves short from the shoulder, overlaid with a blue bodice, and a white skirt cut short well above the knee. A white hair clasp finished off the ensemble. The skirt seemed shockingly brief compared to the ankle-length garments I was used to wearing, but I could not help admiring the overall effect: it made her look delightful.

“Nice bottom,” came a masculine voice from behind me, and with a shriek I spun. My towel had been clutched only to the front of me with my naked derriere on display to the corridor behind. A footman walked past, dressed simply but smartly in shirt and trousers, a small smile on his lips.

I resisted the urge to glare at Lucy. I had assumed, because she had left the wash-room naked, still wrapping her towel about her, that the corridor was safe from male eyes. It was my own fault, and yet I felt somehow that I had been tricked. I wound the towel around me tightly, wishing that I could also hide the fierce blush that heated my cheeks.

Lucy was smiling too, and I had the sense that she was trying not to laugh. “At least he liked your arse.”

I had never referred to my bottom as an ‘arse’, and yet, when Lucy said it, it sounded pleasing. I smiled back shyly despite still smarting from the incident.

“We need to get you measured for your uniform, and quickly,” Lucy continued. “There is little time. Mrs Dempster will be waiting for us.”

“But—”

Lucy walked off, clearly expecting for me to follow.

Measured? Now? Wearing only this?

It must be another example of the way they did things at Laxton.

I swallowed hard, gripped the towel tightly, and followed her, barefoot, down the cold stone floor.

~*~

Chapter 2

Lucy led me through two corridors and a flight of steps, and though the distance was short, we passed several people. One serving girl smiled at me, welcoming; another glanced at me curiously. But I did not see the expression of the footman we passed because I had my eyes averted, blushing in my barely covered nakedness, trying to pull the hem of the towel lower past my bottom.

Finally, and with relief, we arrived at the fitting room, where I assumed we must at least be free of male eyes. Lucy waved me forward.

“Are you not coming in?” I asked her. While a near-stranger, she was the closest thing to a friend I had here, and my state of undress was making me feel far more vulnerable than usual.

“I’ll be back for you when you’re finished,” she said smiling, and I felt perhaps she was trying to reassure me. “I must needs briefly attend to another matter.”

“Quickly now,” came a voice from the room, and my consternation rose as I discovered that the most intimidating Mrs Dempster was waiting within. Lucy waved me forward, and I stepped inside tentatively.

“Come, come,” Mrs Dempster chivvied me again, and gestured impatiently to the centre of the room where two girls waited. I quickened my step to the point she directed, loath for her to think me a dawdler. As I passed her, she tugged away the towel, saying, in her matter-of-fact way, “You won’t be needing this.” And, just like that, I was rendered naked before strangers.

I opened my mouth to protest but closed it again, knowing it would be futile. I blushed to see their eyes on me and was horrified that the door stood wide open. No one had thought to shut it and I cursed my foolishness for not doing so myself, yet Mrs Dempster had rushed me so. I looked towards it nervously but could not manifest the courage to ask.

Despite my apprehension, the two serving girls attending smiled at me warmly and were very gentle as one went about gathering the measurements they required, while the other readied a clipboard. Yet it was a difficult experience for me: to have strange hands on my skin, brushing my breasts as they wrapped the tape measure around my bust, the coarse cloth rough against my nipples and squeezed quite tight; or asking me to raise an arm and measuring shoulder-to-wrist, my body exposed by this simple move, the door still wide open as I furtively checked again and again that no one was looking within. With each measurement the girl called out numbers which the other maid dutifully recorded with pen and paper, and I could not help feeling a little like cattle at a market.

At one point I tried to cover my nudity with my arm, in such a way that did not impede the taking of the measurements, but Mrs Dempster tutted quite loudly and muttered “Oh, really!” After that, I could not venture the courage to hide myself again.

The worst bit was when the girl knelt directly before me and politely asked me to spread my legs. I looked down at her, mortified, and to my further dismay heard footsteps in the corridor outside. I could not but obey, lest Mrs Dempster (who was watching all the while, her face severe as always) took umbrage. But it was anguish to stand still, the girl’s small hands sliding the tape measure slowly up my inner thigh, her fingers even brushing against my recently trimmed vulva, while I hoped and prayed that the person walking past the door was at least female.

She was, and yet she had a good look as she passed, even pausing in her step as she ran her eyes over my exposed, naked body.

I blushed intensely, hoping that this ordeal would soon be over. I knew already that I tended to blush easily, and it was always so obvious against my fair complexion. It seemed Laxton was hardly the place for a girl as innocent in life as I, and I could well imagine the number of blushes that would yet be drawn from me.

The girl with the tape measure bent down and laid it against my feet, which made me uncomfortable, not least because it tickled. Then she rose and wrapped it around the widest part of my hips, reading off the numbers with her eyes level with my pelvis. I could feel her warm breath against my skin.

Next, she stood and reached around me, her body almost pressing to mine as she looped the tape around my waist, and as she called out the last measurement she smiled at me. It seemed kind and genuine, but I was too wrought by this point to manage a smile back.

“Are we done then?” the ever-impatient Mrs Dempster demanded.

“Yes, Mrs Dempster,” replied the maid.

“The girls will bring you clothes and shoes in your size,” Mrs Dempster said to me. Then she turned to leave, to my horror with my towel still clutched in her hand.

I could not restrain myself, the thought of walking back to my room through the corridors entirely naked too much to bear. “Um… Mrs Dempster?” I blurted. She stopped, looking at me. “Please may I have my towel?” I asked, my voice so anxious it was almost a squeak.

She looked down at her hand as though surprised I would bother to ask, but handed it to me anyway. With the greatest relief, I wrapped it around me as she left.

It was not long before Lucy returned to take me back to our room. I was grateful, because the corridors were a maze, and all looked the same. To my happiness, we passed only one person on our return journey, and she, like the others, regarded me warmly.

I could not deny that so far, everyone had been very nice; I wished merely that I might have met them with some clothes on.

On returning to our room, we were not kept long before the girl who had undertaken the measuring (and whose name I still did not know, but later learnt to be Sarah) arrived with an armful of folded, pressed clothes, and a small bag containing two matching pairs of shoes. She smiled at me again as she left, and I was glad that she seemed to like me, given how good a look at me she’d had.

Lucy jumped up. “Let’s get you dressed,” she said, reaching for one corner of my towel and pulling it from me, throwing it into a hamper by the door.

Yet again, I was naked before this girl I had known for only a few hours, and I fought the urge to cover myself with hands and arms as she sat down on the bed next to mine and looked at me appraisingly.

“Much, much better,” she said frankly, running her eyes over my shaven legs and clean skin. I noticed her eyebrows rise slightly as she saw the finely-trimmed bush I had retained, but she did not comment. “I wish I had your breasts,” she added, wistfully.

I blushed again to have my anatomy so remarked upon, and though I was pleased that she thought me beautiful, I could not in good faith think myself her equal in that regard.

I turned and regarded the serving maid’s uniform.

“Oh,” I said, “they have forgotten a chemise. Should I use my own?”

“There’s no need,” Lucy replied from behind me, and I heard amusement in her tone. “It’s not part of the uniform.”

This piece of news was not encouraging, but I dutifully began with the white blouse, which was far thinner and more diaphanous than I had initially realised. I slipped it over my head, and it fell to brush against the top of my bottom. While thin, it was clearly very well made and was comfortable and gentle against my skin. There were no further undergarments, and I felt my cheeks tinge as I realised I must needs turn my back to Lucy and bend to retrieve my chest from beneath my bed, all while being exposed as I was, and with her looking on. Yet, there was nothing for it, and I could not bring myself to ask her to look away or leave.

I had my hand on the handle and was tugging it free when she spoke.

“While it is lovely to watch you present your bottom so, we are a little short of time, Emily. We should focus on finishing getting you dressed.”

The blush on my cheeks was fierce as I released my grip on the handle and quickly straightened, mortified by her words. Yet also it felt as though she had complimented me, and it was quite discomforting to know how to respond when it was my nakedness upon which she had commented.

“I was intending to retrieve my undergarments,” I muttered, by way of defence.

“You won’t need those,” Lucy replied, smiling, and to my consternation added, “they are not a part of the prescribed uniform either.”

I turned back to the clothes lying across my bed, while I considered the ramification of those words. It was shocking to discover that I was expected to be bare beneath my skirt, and with the skirt so much shorter than that which I was used to. I wondered at the possibility that Lucy was teasing me, yet the uniform Sarah had brought me certainly included no such garments. My uniform was, of course, the same as every other maid’s I had seen thus far, and in that, there was some comfort. I would not be naked; the skirt would obviously cover me, and I supposed that ultimately undergarments were, if not redundant, then arguably not a requirement to consider oneself fully dressed.

I chewed my lip nervously as I pulled on the soft, cotton skirt. I decided to assume that Lucy was having a joke, and the other girls wore their own underwear. For now, I would play along, not least because it avoided needing to bend over before her once more. But I resolved to reclaim my undergarments from my chest as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

My skirt was of very fine quality indeed, the material soft and satiny against my thighs. At least it had more weight than my blouse, but I would have to be careful to keep from bending too far, for it did not offer much cover to my bottom, which had already had more of a showing today than I might have wished.

Next, I picked up the bodice. I knew from Lucy’s, which of course was the same, that it came up over and supported the breasts, and tied at the front accordingly. It too was made of soft but good-quality material and, once tied, would serve to heighten my figure, accentuating the waist. Lucy’s made her look delightful, and I hoped, in a somewhat vain way, to be similarly regarded. But first, I had to put it on. I had never worn a bodice before.

Lucy watched, amused I think, as I struggled to seat it around my waist while tying the laces in front. After a short while she jumped up, laughing, though not in an unpleasant way.

“Let me help you,” she said, and I felt her body push against my back, her hands snaking around my waist, holding the two sides of the bodice in place.

“Thank you,” I replied, as I began to tighten the laces. One begins at the bottom and works slowly up towards the top; so did Lucy’s hands, inching closer towards my breasts. I did not think it was necessary for her to cup them – even if through the soft material of the bodice – but Lucy clearly thought it was. “Thank you,” I said again as I finished tightening it, and my voice was slightly more breathless the second time.

“My pleasure,” she said, sitting back down on her bed, grinning at me impishly.

Finally, the hair clip; my raven locks held back from my face accordingly and left to lie loose behind. Lucy furnished me with a white ribbon which I used to tie a simple ponytail.

“You’ll do,” Lucy said, smiling, with a slightly proprietary air. “Come, we must go down. It would not be wise to be late for this.”

I wondered as to the subtle emphasis on ‘for this’ as I followed her from the room.

The servant area was an enormous hall and in the centre was a table that could easily sit a score of diners. The room was already well occupied, and as Lucy and I entered, so did others through various doors. We gathered toward the foot of the table, and such was the size of the hall that plenty of space remained. Between us and the table stood Mrs Dempster and a girl I had not seen before. The gathering was largely female, each dressed as Lucy and me, but the exception were two gentlemen, one dressed in a formal dark suit and the other in the simple garments of the off-duty footman. I blushed furiously as I realised it was he who had so espied my bottom, earlier in the corridor. He had clearly noticed me and appeared to be grinning at my discomfort.

Rather than look at him, I regarded the girl that stood beside Mrs Dempster, and to my eyes she looked a most wretched thing. I wondered now as to the purpose of the gathering, but as I glanced at the clock standing against the wall, I found I was about to discover.

The room quietened as the clock chimed softly, eight times.

“As you know,” Mrs Dempster began, “Sally transgressed earlier today. We will now witness her punishment.”

Reflexively I slipped somewhat behind Lucy, as if trying to hide. I fully understood that maids sometimes erred, and presumably a punishment fitting the crime should be meted out, but from what little I had already come to see of Laxton, I could not suppress a feeling of foreboding.

The girl Sally had hung her head in shame while Mrs Dempster had spoken, but now she pulled on the ties of her bodice, unlacing them. As we watched, she slipped the bodice from her waist and tugged her skirt down, allowing it to pool on the floor.

I had to restrain a gasp, for she was now nude from the waist down, confirming what Lucy had said earlier: no undergarments were prescribed.

At that moment, dressed only in her blouse, the wretched girl turned a beseeching gaze to Mrs Dempster; but this was met only with a dismissive, “Continue.”

With a resigned air, she grasped her blouse and pulled it over her head, with not a stitch of clothing left to cover her.

It was not simply that she was on display to the various serving maids assembled, but that she was the centre of attention, naked for her discipline, and two men were present! I wondered now at their role in this, but again, I was not long kept waiting.

Sally turned around to face the table beside which she stood, and clearly aware of what was asked of her, she leant forward over it, reaching her arms out to support herself. Her bottom faced towards the assembled staff, her legs together and taut with the strain of supporting her as she stretched across the table. I could not help but notice that she was quite bare between the legs, and, like Lucy, showed not a single hair. Again, I was struck by how vulnerable and exposed her womanhood was, shaved smooth as it obviously had been. It was as if all vestiges of propriety were denied her in the position into which she had voluntarily presented herself.

It was blatantly obvious what was to happen next, though I could scarcely believe it.

The footman stepped forward and placed one hand flat on the small of Sally’s back. I presumed it was to restrain her. He raised his other hand, and I clenched my fists. There was an inevitability to it all, even though I was still incredulous. Then his hand came down, landing with a crack against her left bottom cheek.

I jumped at the noise, despite anticipating it. In the same moment Sally gasped at the impact, before her small voice cried, “One!”

The man raised his hand again, and this time it landed on her other cheek.

“Two!” gasped Sally.

The man continued in the same vein, alternating cheeks. I watched as they grew redder and redder, and as Sally counted on. After a while, I could not bear to see, and averted my gaze.

“Eighteen!” Crack.

“Nineteen!” Crack.

“Twenty!”

It appeared to be over. I risked a glance towards the poor girl, and gasped quietly at what I saw.

Rather than leave her now that he had finished his task, the man appeared to be rubbing her spanked behind. No doubt it would ease the sting from the spanking, but to be so fondled before so many! Then, as I watched, I realised something that would be obvious to all who could see: her naked, shaven vulva, so exposed, so framed within the apex of her legs, was clearly aroused, her wetness evident. Some combination of the humiliation, or the physical contact, or perhaps being on display, had enflamed her quite considerably. Had she not been quite so bare, perhaps there was a chance it would have gone unnoticed, but as she was, she had nowhere to hide. Indeed, as the man continued to rub her reddened buttocks, I thought I heard her emit a small moan.

I risked a glance at Lucy to see if she had noticed, but from the transfixed expression on her face, she clearly had. Lucy seemed not horrified, but more her expression was one of lust: her eyes sparkled, and her lips were parted just slightly, as she watched the spectacle before us.

I pulled my gaze from Lucy’s rapt expression and returned it to poor Sally, only to see that the man who had punished her, and then so blatantly groped her bottom, had now straightened, leaving her bent across the table. Surely, he had overstepped his role with his hands on her in such a way. Mrs Dempster must not have seen, or she would have intervened – though she had been watching closely, and I could not fathom how she had missed it.

Mrs Dempster appraised the faces of the watching serving girls, her face blank. When the footman stood back from his task, she addressed herself to the suited man.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked, as if offering to repeat the process if he gave even the slightest inclination.

To my relief, the man simply nodded, then walked towards the door. Several girls made to move quickly out of his way, eyes averted, and he was gone. I wondered who he was.

“That concludes tonight’s punishment,” said Mrs Dempster. “Thank you, Derek,” she added, turning to the footman.

I was confounded that she so thanked a man for laying his hands on the poor girl in such a rude way.

Sally eased herself up to a standing position, then gingerly re-dressed herself. I had no doubt how much her bottom must hurt, but I wondered if the humiliation of it all would not be the worst aspect to bear.

“Before we conclude, I would also like to welcome Emily as the newest member of our team,” Mrs Dempster said. At the mention of my name, my eyes snapped to her, and I felt a blush return to my cheeks. I was not sure whether I was more mortified to be the centre of attention, or that, just a second before, I had so blatantly been regarding Sally’s nakedness.

“Welcome, Emily,” Mrs Dempster said to me formally.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I replied and bobbed a little curtsy, hoping as it slipped out that the form of address was safe. She paused for a moment, then nodded. I exhaled quietly.

“That is all,” she said, and immediately the collected serving maids – of which I fancied there were easily thirty or more – began to move and speak amongst themselves. Most took seats at the large table, while others, as if by pre-arrangement, headed through two large doors into a kitchen.

With curiosity, I peered through and saw a truly enormous room – larger even than the servant hall – in which an organised bustle of activity could be observed with chefs and maids both. I saw food preparation areas against each wall, and a number of grand ovens. Several tables dominated the room, and on each were piled foodstuffs: vegetables and fruit, pies and sausages, flagons of drink and joints of cold meat. It was more food than I had ever seen in my life.

Lucy guided me to a seat beside her.

As I listened to the conversation, one thing was readily apparent: no one appeared as shocked as I by the spanking of Sally. In fact, I would describe most tones as ‘excited’.

The girl opposite us leant over and asked Lucy in a hushed whisper, “Did you see the bulge in Derek’s trousers?”

I looked up, startled.

“Oh, no!” Lucy exclaimed. “I couldn’t see from where we were standing!”

“Oh yes,” said another girl to Lucy’s right. “He was most clearly hard.” She giggled, as did several others.

“Who can blame him?” asked the first girl.

“I wouldn’t mind being spanked by Derek,” said one girl, wistfully.

“But not in front of everyone!” another replied.

To my surprise, the wistful girl did not immediately confirm this.

All in all, I had no idea what to make of the evening’s proceedings. I kept largely to myself as eventually the conversation moved on, and food was served. It was plentiful and delicious, though I had little appetite. I knew I should be hungry after the day’s early start, travel and new events, but the pre-dinner incident had left my stomach squirming and uncomfortable.

Fortunately, I was not asked to overly contribute; I was posed only a few questions concerning my home and family, which I answered quietly. After a while, Lucy said, “It is her first day,” and they regarded this as sufficient excuse, asking nothing further.

After dinner, several girls began to clear up, and again, the division of labour seemed pre-arranged. In any event, neither Lucy nor I were required to assist. Lucy remained seated at the table in the servants’ hall, talking with some of the other girls, while I, fascinated, watched the activity in the kitchen.

Though there was much to do, there were many hands and thus the work was done quickly. I considered this as they washed and cleaned up from our meal – and presumably also the one served earlier for other occupants of the house. My cousin Linda had said that there were three serving maids for twelve rooms in the house in which she worked. I thought that here, there must be at least thirty rooms, if not more – there was much of the estate I had yet to see and could only imagine. But we had at least thirty maids that I had seen so far. The division of labour was clearly far less onerous, and I wondered whether that would leave me with time for other duties, and if so, what they might be.

That evening, as we returned to our rooms, Lucy asked one of the other girls the question that had been on my mind all evening.

“Tracy, I wasn’t here this morning – why was Sally punished?”

I listened carefully, keen to avoid the same fate.

“She failed to swallow,” Tracy said as she turned out our light. “Apparently, she said it makes her gag.”

Lucy made an acknowledging noise, as if this answer didn’t seem strange to her.

I lay in the dark, my head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling above me that I could not see.

It had been a most unusual first day.

Before I fell asleep, I resolved to myself that I certainly did not ever want to be in Sally’s position. I was not sure I would survive the humiliation of such a punishment.

Whatever else might happen in the coming days, I would most very definitely swallow anything I was asked to swallow.

~*~

Chapter 3

I must confess, I didn’t sleep particularly well.

Partly it was excitement about the new life I had entered into, the challenge of a new occupation, what my role might entail, and about the duties I might perform.

Yet in no small way it was my trepidation of the approach I had seen so far at Laxton – and what that might mean for my role, and the duties I was expected to perform.

Nevertheless, the following morning I was awakened at six o’clock by Mrs Dempster knocking on our door, accompani

So Close

Richard Bacula

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