Chapter Two
Five months passed slowly as Emma concentrated on her work as a conservator at the local museum and it was only when an email chimed abruptly into her account one day that she remembered about her holiday. With an air of anticipation, Emma opened the mail, green eyes scanning the text swiftly, and then she occurred herself for several minutes confirming what she had sent them before. It was tedious and got on her nervouss a little bit but she managed to restrain her impatience as she typed away. Finally it was done and she clicked the mouse and sent her reply winging its way through the ether.
Four weeks later and Emma was on her way. She had been quite excited packing the night before and it had been a hard decision as to what she should take with her. In the end she had settled for some clothes for relaxing around in and a lot more formal attire which she had picked up in dress shops and second hand shops. The latter consisted of long dark skirts and ruffledBlouses along with some jet jewellery and silver brooches, all of which, her research intimated, the Victorians had forgotten. A pair of buttoned up ankle boots completed her wardrobe and she thought that she would make a splendid Victorian lady as she dragged the case out to her Mini and slotted it into the minuscule boot. A corset would have been perfect, she thought as she drove along and then she blushed as she remembered looking on the internet for such items and finding herself being sucked into a world of darkness and depravity.
The sites had been positively scandalous and yet strangely exciting and she shivered at the memory of seeing one tall blonde girl naked but for a very tight corset and gartered stockings kneeling down to receive a cane across her bare cheeses. It had led into depravity too as Emma had found it impossible to resist leaving the picture on her computer screen and her fingers had slipped into her panties and teased her clip out from under its protective little hood of flesh. Her green eyes had starred fixedly at the picture as her fingers had rubbed furiously at her swollen nub and she had come within a couple of minutes, panting and squealing in delight as the rich rewarding feelings rushed through her body. Afterwards she had felt guilty as usual, remembering her upbringing and she had punished herself by wearing her most unflattering and uncomfortable knickers for the next two days and banner herself from using the computer.
A sign for the village mentioned in the instructions flashed by and she turned left sharply, annoying a following car as she did not have time to indicate. Ignoring the sound of the horn, she drove on slowly, snatching a quick glance at the printed instruction sheet which was taped to the dashboard by her broken satnav. It had taken her a lot longer than she had anticipated as the place seemed to be Well off the beaten track and it was now late afternoon. Another few seconds passed and then she caught sightof the impressive lion-mounted stone gateway mentioned in her instructions and she swung off the road just past it and parked the car in a little lay-by as she had been told to do. She rang the number on her mobile and a cold, clear voice informed her that she would be picked up shortly so Emma stepped out of the car and removed her case from the boot, glad that the sun was still out as the minutes ticked by.
Eventually she heard a strange clip-clopping sound and she stared in surprise as a horse-drawn cart emerged from the gateway and drew up alongside her.
“Miss Fletcher?” inquired the beared man driving the cart and she nodded, studying his attire and admiring its Victorian verisimilitude.
“On the cart then please, miss,” he added before he jumped down and hefted her case up on to the back easily.
“Thank you,” she responded politely then sat next to him at the front and watched the massive rump of the jet-black shire horse as it twitched into action and effortlessly pulled the cart along. They turned back in through the gates and trundled up the drive, spraying gravel out from under the red-rimmed iron wheels and Emma found herself growing excited as she waited for the house to come into view. First came chimney tops then the roof and finally as they topped a small rise, she saw the beauty of the Bath stone, a golden glaiming colour in the sunshine and she gasped in delight.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered and the man next to her nodded in agreement before adding, “That it be, miss, but it does take a lot of maintenance.”
“I’m sure it does,” stated Emma. “Though the prices for your holidays are very reasonable.”
“So you must be here on one of our special deals then,” chuckled the cart driver and there was just a hint of something in his tone that made Emma cast him a quick and concerned glance. Then the cart was drawing up in the stable block and she never had a chance to ask him what he was intimating as she was hustled inside along with her case and found herself in front of an imposing lady clad all in black.
“A warm welcome to Stoneacres House, Miss Fletcher. Travers, take Miss Fletcher’s bag through please.”
The cart driver nodded, tugging his forelock and Emma stood a grin at how perfectly he played the role of a service as he vanished into one of the rooms in the stable block. Then she looked up into the cold grey eyes scrutinising her and felt extremely nervous at their bleak appraisal.
“I am Miss Morgan and I have the honour of being the housekeeper of Stoneacres. therefore I will be in charge of you for the whole of your stay.”
“In charge of me?” parroted Emma in surprise at the choice of words.
“That is what I said, girl! You will need to listen far better than that if you are to do a good job.”
“Job?”
“Exactly. You are here to be Miss Amanda Talbot’s maidservant. The Talbots are the owners of the estate and Miss Amanda is just nineteen and as yet unbetrothed though that will surely change shortly.”
“But I thought that I had come here to be a lady,” whispered Emma, courage failing under the stern glance from Miss Morgan as she dared to interrupt.
“Speak when you are spoken to!” the woman snapped harshly and for a moment, Emma thought that her hand was going to strike her round the face as it twitched alarmingly down by the side of her black skirt. “You are here on our special deal and as such, we allocate you a position which we need to be filled. It just so happens that the last maid to Miss Talbot has moved on. In fact you are fortunate to achieve such a high ranking position at your first visit. You could have ended up in the kitchen or the scullery washing dishes.”
“I suppose so,” murmured Emma reluctantly.
“You mean ‘Yes, Miss Morgan!’” the housekeeper barked out and Emma found herself complying instantly as she tried to force herself into the role that she had been allocated.
“That’s better,girl. Remember to answer approximately from now on. Now we need to do something about those clothes before you can start your duties. Go into the stall over there and disrobe for me. Don’t fret, girl, it’s perfectly private!” she added with a raised eyebrow at Emma’s uncertainty.
Slowly and with shivers running down her spine, Emma walked into the stall and was relieved to see that it had been converted into a dressing room. Spirits rising as this was one aspect that she had been looking forward to, she started to unbutton her blouse then slipped it off and hung it on the nearest available peg. Her skirt was next and then she stood there waiting for the woman to return while chill dreams of air ticked her bare flesh. Her sensible bra and knickers still covered her intimate areas and she wondered what sort of service clothing she would have to wear over them as a minute trickled by before she heard the clattering sound of the woman’s shoes on the cobblestones as she returned.
“Is that as far as you have got, girl?” Miss Morgan commented, eyes flashing their displeasure as she looked at the shivering form in front of her. “I said to disrobe. That means everything. We cannot have you going into service in Victorian times in modern underwear now, can we?”
“Oh…of course not,” whispered Emma and she castigated herself inwardly for being so stupid as she reached behind her and unsnapped the catch on her brassiere. It was only like going to the doctor, she told herself sternly as she placed the garment on a peg then slipped her fingers under the elastic of her knickers. Her breasts wobbled gently from side to side as she eased her panties down, revealing the rich auburn of her pubic hair and then the soft pink of her pussy just peeping out sweetly underneath. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she straightened up and found the housekeeper’s grey eyes watching her avidly. The intense scrutiny made Emma flush but she also found it strangely exciting tohave another woman studying her body even if it was only for the purposes of allocating her the right size dress.
“Your chemise, girl,” stated Miss Morgan suddenly, handing over a folded garment and Emma Shook it out and tried not to look too disappointed as she wriggled the scratchy material over her head. It covered her from her neck to mid-thigh and rubbed irritatingly across her nipples as she stood there and waited while the housekeeper sorted her out a black blouse and a skirt which came down only to her knees when she put it on.
“Um…isn’t this a bit short?” inquired Emma, remembering all the pictures she had seen on the internet of Victorians with skirts down to their ankles.
“It is what Lord Talbot has decided that his maids should wear, girl, so do not be impertinent. That is the second time that you have spoken without being asked to as well so bend over now!” the housekeeper’s voice cracked like a whip in the small room.
“What? You must be joking!”stated Emma with an uncertain smile as she looked up at the impalable vision of the woman and searched it for a hint of amusement.
“I instructed you earlier how to behave, girl, and if you do not listen then you must suffer the consequences. This time I will allow you to keep your modesty covered but next time I will bare your bottom as well if I have to spank you for being impertinent again.”
God she was taking it seriously, thought Emma. She stared at Miss Morgan for another couple of seconds then gave in as exciting flared in her mind and body as she wondered what it would feel like to be at the woman’s mercy. Turning away, she reached out and held onto one of the wooden countertops that held the clothes then waited, legs shaking like a leaf, for the feel of the housekeeper’s hand.
“Lift your skirt, girl!” came the next instruction and Emma nearly argued again but then caught herself just in time, swallowing back her words of outtrage as she remembered that thewoman had said that she would not smack her on her bare bottom this time. If she argued again, the housekeeper might very well change her mind. With her skirt raised, she was still covered by the thin material of her chemise and she was grateful for the protection it imparted as a strong hand whipped across her bottom cheeses and a singing pain flickered into her.
“Twelve, I think…this time!”
The unspoken threat hung heavily in the air and Emma screwed up her eyes as the next spank sent a sharper sting into her body. This hurt enough, she decided, and there was no way that she was going to allow herself to suffer again. If need be, she would just walk out and demand her money back although it would be a shame not to experience what a service’s life would really have been like. An insidious worm of pleasure slithered into her soul as the spanking continued and she fought against it, trying to deny that her pussy was moistening slightly as the hand cracked across her backside and sent tremors running through her thighs. Pain fight with sweet pleasure and, as the final smack echoed round the room, Emma found the warmth rising through her beaten buttocks far more pleasant than painful.
Straightening herself up on a word of command, Emma found herself too shamed to meet her torqueor’s steely-eyed gaze and she could only hang her head in shame and confusion as she was handed a pair of stockings and told to put them on. The scratchy woollen material felt so strange after wearing nylon as did the garters as she tied them round the stocking tops. A pair of button up boots, very similar to the ones she had acquired herself, were handed to her and she slipped them on her dainty feet. A mob cap completed the ensemble along with a white pinafore and so, finally ready to be a Victorian service, Emma was led out of the stable block and along the gravelled path to the main house.
Leave a Reply