tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe New Serving Maid Ch. 01

The New Serving Maid Ch. 01

byAltissimus©

Author's note:

It is not my intent or design to offend, so please be aware that this story has been written for adults of a particular kind: it is unlikely to be everyone's cup of tea. This story contains non-consent/reluctance and spanking. There's even some mild lesbianism and a bodice. If you are likely to be offended by this please read something else.

Please also note that this is the first in this series and therefore it is a little slow. There is no actual sex in this first part, but bits are sexy.

If you like it, please do remember to vote. Feedback, as always, is what keeps me going; the more feedback I get the faster the next parts will be finished!

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters herein are probably fictitious.

Copyright © 2016. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorised use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.

* * *

It started in the summer of 1898, some four months after my eighteenth birthday, when my cousin, Linda, came to visit.

Linda was my mother's sister's daughter, and was two years my senior. Though her family did not live nearby she had taken, two months since, a role in a house as a serving maid for a wealthy family on the outskirts of Bourton, which was only eight or so miles from our village of Lower Ellem. She had come to visit on her first available opportunity, no doubt keen to regale us with the wealth of her employers and the fortune of her appointment.

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

"I'm sure it is." That was my mother, and I felt there may have been a note of irascibility, perhaps born of envy.

"But is it not a lot for you to clean?" My younger sister, Annie, who, at sixteen, was surprisingly practical and not at all full of fluff, despite her innocence.

"Well, I do not clean it myself, there are three serving maids," Linda replied, "of which granted, I am the most junior, but then I have not been there many weeks at all!"

Linda did not stay long as she had to bicycle the miles back to Bourton, and we all (except father) trooped out dutifully to admire the lady's bicycle ("one of the first of its kind!") that she had been loaned for the journey. 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 easy at all in all those skirts.

It was not long after she left that my father, who had mostly kept himself to himself during Emily's visit, expressed his opinion:

"It's 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 I might wish another occupation that perhaps allowed me more time to myself than a day every two months. I did not really fancy a life of cleaning for a wealthy family who would be unlikely to notice if I was there or not.

Nonetheless, I had said nothing in response to my Father's comment, and therefore could not reproach him when, scarcely a week later, he returned home with some excitement to inform the household, 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.

* * *

In retrospect it was obvious that I was very fortunate indeed, and though at the time I did not know how my father had arranged it, I was certainly the envy of many a girl from the area.

The residence to which I had been appointed was the estate at Laxton, which I was to come to learn was far grander than the house of which my cousin Linda had informed us. Laxton had sixteen bedrooms and numerous state rooms, drawing rooms, a library, servants' quarters and such.

No matter how long I was there, I was to always find the estate most daunting. Each room was decorated in browns and golds and reds; deeply burnished dark wood was abundant and thick, patterned carpets added to the luxury. Even the ceilings were ornate and in many rooms magnificently painted.

I had left early in the morning even before the sun was up to make the journey to Laxton, first by coach from our village to take train from Bourton, and from there as far as Edbington, which had proximity to Laxton. Arriving at Edbington in the early afternoon I looked for a girl named Lucy, another employee at Laxton, as per my father's prior instructions. She had been visiting family and was now returning. One of the Laxton wagons had been sent to collect us and our chests. Lucy's chest was quite small, as she had been away only three days, but mine was somewhat larger. Lucy expressed surprise, however, that it was all I had brought; it would've been difficult to bring more given the chest contained all of my clothes with barely room for some small personal trinkets I cherished, not to mention the discomfort of lifting it on and off the train without assistance had it been any heavier.

The footman hoisted my heavy chest on top of the stage as though it was 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 alone, and even Lucy seemed a little nervous in the presence of our driver. His name was Paul, I was to learn, and I was also to learn that he had little patience for what he referred to as "those idle girls".

Nevertheless, even Paul's attitude and the length of my trip thus far could not lessen the excitement of travelling - which was in itself such a rarity - nor the arrival at the estate itself.

The road into Laxton curved gently between rows of well-established trees until the house itself came into view. The residence seemed to stretch on and on, and I must've counted at least a score of large windows before we had reached the entrance to the central courtyard. The wagon carried on within, the horses turning a wide circle to present us before the steps, rising up to the door.

The house was truly magnificent and incredibly daunting. I remember feeling quite some awe - a feeling retained even today, though it is rare that I enter through the courtyard entrance, as I did that day.

Lucy opened our door and stepped down first, clearly more at ease than I, and I made a conscious effort to try not to gape as I followed her. I hardly noticed the indifference Paul had shown us, or the lack of civility in opening our door; Lucy had clearly expected as much and sensibly aided our alighting. Paul did take the time to unload our chests though somewhat less than gently; I hardly felt I was in a position to comment at the time, and it was not long before he had taken his seat once again and geed the horses on.

"This way then, girls, let us not stand idle," came a stern voice from my left, surprising me, so distracted had I been by the facing of the house and the departure of the wagon. A quite severe-looking woman stood nearby, gesturing towards a small door to one side, sequestered discreetly; indeed I had not observed it before. The woman was probably in her early thirties and dressed reasonably well in a long, clean, pleated grey dress.

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

"Come, come," urged the severe-looking woman, clearly with no intention of assisting me.

It took me some time to haul my chest through the door, along several corridors, up more than one flight of steps and finally to the room in which I was evidentially to reside. Lucy had already made the trip: it seemed we were to be roommates. Burdened as I was I had only been vaguely aware of the size of the place, the breadth and height of the corridors I traversed and the number of stone steps in each of the staircases. The room I was guided to was clearly shared by several other girls: I counted four beds in all, yet I had still at least twice the space I had had 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 seems one was not allowed to perspire in the house. This did not bode well for any future hard work - such as cleaning.

"Dinner will be attended at eight-thirty but you are to gather by eight o'clock." I was to learn that the servants ate after the rest of the household, who dined at seven. She turned and left, with a final, "Lucy will see to you."

I was glad to see her gone.

"She's such 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.

"That was Mrs. Dempster - did you not meet her during your interview?" Lucy's surprise quite evident.

"I didn't have an interview." And I wondered again exactly how my father had arranged all this.

"Really?" Lucy exclaimed, seeming quite taken aback by this development. She recovered momentarily and stood. "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 wash-room. Several bath-tubs 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 devised the plumbing. "There are many things that are done at Laxton that are well ahead of the times."

As she said this she began to strip off her clothing and threw it unceremoniously into a basket to one side. It was clearly evident from the room and her actions that bathing was to be communal. She was soon to be naked and I felt it wise not to be left far behind. I unbuttoned my dress and pulled it over my head, then focusing all of my attention on my undergarments, not being quite comfortable with the nude proximity of the heretofore unknown Lucy, who had walked towards one of the showerheads on the wall and had activated it by pulling a long chain.

I could not delay unduly and soon was naked too, and though there were shower heads alongside both the walls of the wash-room, 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, spluttered and had to swallow a shriek.

Lucy giggled.

"You have to use both chains to get the right temperature," she said, stepping from her shower to mine, her closeness quite disconcerting. I tried not to look 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 I bathed.

I was aware of Lucy washing herself beside me, but looking at 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 said, and she appeared to have indicated my pubic region.

Surprised, I looked at her, and though my eyes with propriety were largely focused on her face I could not help but notice her nakedness. Lucy was certainly a very beautiful girl, and I thought she far finer than I; her breasts were larger than mine and her hips more curvy, and it was then that I noticed with great surprise that where I 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 most base of ways, as if to draw attention. I found myself unable to look away.

"What has happened to your hair?" I blurted out, unable to stop myself.

"Do you like it?" she asked, turning towards me so that I could better see while she lifted her arms and washed her hair. I noticed too that the underside of her arms was smooth, as 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 embarrassment of the encounter. In comparison I felt far more earthy, as though I was unrefined and she was sophisticated femininity.

"Yes, I like it too," she stated. "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 her shower. She paused to regard me for a moment, "and perhaps some scissors," she added.

She walked naked and dripping across the tiled floor to a medium-sized cabinet set against a bath, and knowing that she could not see my face I openly admired the firmness and shape of her derriere. She really was very beautiful.

She bent slightly to open a draw 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 open-blade I had seen my father use on rare occasion.

She saw my surprise, "Yes, it's a new design - it's called a 'safety razor'." I could see that the blade was small and was mounted between two slim pieces of wood. "It is far easier to use under your arms and...in other areas," continued Lucy, "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 overly. We are due in the servant hall at eight o'clock, and we need still to find you your uniform." And with that she took a towel and left, wrapping the towel around her as she walked out into the corridor.

Apprehensively I eyed the items I gripped in my hands.

Surely the legs were the safest place to begin.

I set aside the scissors 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 against the smoothness of Lucy's body. I shaved carefully, not fully trusting the safety razor, but without incident. Afterwards my legs and under-arms tingled, sensitive under the water spray when I washed them, but 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 she. I spent some industrious moments with the scissors, trimming as short and as tidily as I could manage, and then conscious of time I cut off the shower and returned the shaving items back to the drawer; therein I discovered a small bowl for what looked like used razor blades and detached mine from the razor head accordingly.

"Hurry up, Emily," I heard Lucy call from the corridor, and naked 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 servant's attire: white shirt with sleeves short from the shoulder, overlaid with a black bodice, a white skirt cut short above the knee, a small white apron to the front. A white hair clasp finished it off. It made her look delightful.

"Nice bottom," came a masculine voice from behind me, and with a shriek I spun, the towel clutched only to the front of me and clearly my naked derriere had been on display to the corridor behind me. A footman walked past, dressed in simple but smart 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, that the corridor was safe from male eyes. It was my own fault, and yet I felt somehow that I had been tricked. I wrapped 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. I followed her back to our room still smarting from the incident.

"At least he liked your arse," said Lucy smiling. I had never considered my bottom to be an 'arse' and yet, when Lucy said it, it sounded pleasing. I smiled back despite myself.

"We need to get you measured for your uniform," Lucy continued, "and quickly; there is little time. Mrs. Dempster is waiting for us." Lucy walked off, clearly expecting for me to follow.

Measured? Now? I wrapped the towel more tightly around my nakedness and followed her, barefoot, down the cold stone floor.

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 towel lower past my bottom.

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

"Are you not coming in?" I asked her. While a near-stranger she was, at least, 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, trying to reassure me I felt, "I must needs attend to another matter briefly."

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

"Come now," she harried me again, and gestured impatiently to the centre of the room where two girls waited. I quickened my step to the point she directed, loathe for her to think me a dawdler. As I passed her she tugged the towel, saying, in her matter-of-fact way, "you won't be needing that," and again I was rendered naked before strangers.

I opened my mouth to protest, but knew it to be futile. I blushed to see their eyes on me, and was horrified also 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.

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