Stories & Poems

A New Sissy Maid for Madam

Madam has had problems with Her sissy maids. They are generally lazy and troublesome and require strict discipline. A few have ended up discarded in the broom cupboard apparently; it is not wise to root around in Madam's large mansion in case you come across skeletons in the cupboard or, of course, the ghosts of times gone by,who forever roam those long corridors. For indeed the house is haunted. I have been lucky or unfortunate enough to have been selected as a replacement for one of the maids who mysteriously disappeared after breaking one of Madam's delicate and irreplaceable candlesticks. Maid Eve, I have been told, knew it to be a mortal sin to damage any of the antique crystal left to the dowager by Lord William Birchall Carter.
 
On arrival at the house, I timidly knocked on the large front door and waited. The butler, James, came to the door, and shouted at me harshly:
  "You stupid girl, you were told to use the servants' entrance at the back of the house, down the cellar steps. Quickly before Madam hears or you will be up for it my girl."   I entered the magnificent house over the mosaic tiling and there I stood before an imposing mahogany staircase. A flickering candle was seen at the top of the stairs and, as the light drew closer, I saw the face and outline of another maid. She gave me one look that made me shudder.   "So you're the new little bitch are you? Well you won't last long, I can tell just by looking at you", quipped maid stephanie. Her words cut through me with dread.   "I am the Mistress's favourite, head maid Stephanie, and you are the new ash girl, for all the fire places."   She cackled, and said "Up here, silly bitch, this is your room."    I was escorted to my garret quarters, lit by dim candlelight bright enough to read with difficulty. I was instructed that I could speak only if spoken to, that my duties would be assigned and that any faults would be severely punished. I was given 10 minutes to dress before reporting to Madam in Her drawing room.
 
Creeping down the stairs by candlelight, I knocked nervously on the door and was greeted with a short command to enter. Maid Stephanie by that stage was playing the piano. Madam was seated reading and She looked up disdainfully at Her new charge. I waited uncertainly before She snapped, "Well, don't just stand there gawping, girl, curtsey and introduce yourself!"
"My name is Caroline, Madam," I ventured.
 
"Well, I hope you are trained, girl, or you shall feel my crop," smiled Madam, tapping said crop gently on her legs. I smiled nervously.
 
"You're not here to look pretty, girl, make yourself useful and bring me a drink of white wine and be lively about it or you will feel my crop!"
 
I tripped off and brought a large glass of wine with ice. I entered, curtsied and presented the glass. Madam had instructed me also not to look Her in the eyes, I could only do that if asked to. The eye contact restriction made me acutely aware of my lowly station.
 
Whilst the piano music continued, I had to wait for further instructions in the corner, my face towards the wall, my hands by my sides, not moving. I learnt that I could be held in this position for a few hours if Madam felt like it. If I were to move, I would be caned. I felt bored, very bored, staring at the wall but at the same time happy that my Mistress enjoyed watching me suffer in silence.
 
Eventually, it was bedtime and I was instructed to clean up and retire. Again, I climbed the steep staircase by candlelight to the attic room with its small bed. There was time for a few pages of the bible and a brief prayer before the candle burnt out. 
 
I had been instructed to rise at 6.30am and to prepare the residence for the waking of Madam in a few hours. The armour is to be cleaned in the hallway. The windows in the drawing room are to be cleaned, the newspaper is to be pressed, the whole house dusted and tidied, after of course I have donned my working uniform. I had to be careful to walk carefully lest my steps awoke Madam, whom one suspects might have had a little too much to drink the night before. However, it is not a maid's place to criticise Madam, for to incur Her wrath was to fear for your life.
 
The tea is ready for 8.30am, loose leaf of course, black, no sugar, in a porcelain cup. I knocked gently on Her bedroom door, newspaper at the ready. A rather delicate "Enter" allows me to open the door and offer Madam the tea and the paper and I beat a hasty retreat. After a brief pause, I run Madam's bath and test the water with my elbow and invite Her to bathe. I retire to lay out the breakfast before being summoned to present Her towel. Of course, my eyes must be averted as She emerges from the water, such temptation! She makes me face the corner as She finishes drying Herself.

I wait by Her side as She has breakfast, remarking on the day's news. My duties are explained, washing, vacuuming, polishing, ironing. The list seems endless. Every time the Mistress enters the room I must stop and curtsey, similarly when She leaves the room. And the protocol is the same if I enter a room where She is present. I begin my duties as Madam goes about Her business, watching me all the time, ready to correct me as necessary. She insists that everything is done perfectly and keeps a notebook of any offences for correction later. I am told once how to do things and expected to pick it up immediately.
 
Lunch is the next event and Madam decides to go out. I accompany Her dressed and we go to a local cafe. I must help the staff to clear up and to take out food and drink whilst Madam eats and looks on amused at Her maid rushed off Her feet. Madam has ordered a large dish and I am allowed to finish the scraps. I wonder if Madam thinks I am overweight, perhaps She just likes Her maids to suffer. The cafe guests are all highly amused by the situation.
 
We return home and it is time for some afternoon entertainment for Madam. I accompany Maid Stephanie on the piano, hoping not to forget my lines for I must memorise all the songs to please Madam. This further limits my free time, of which I have almost none in service. Madam sips Her tea as we perform for Her. Then it is time for correction for the day's faults. One after the other, we present ourselves and our offences are read out to us. Each carries a punishment of one stroke of the cane. This seems light until I realise that even the slightest fault will merit correction. Madam has us bend over and She slowly administers the sentence, making us count the strokes and thank Her for taking the trouble to correct us rather than dismiss us immediately. We each feel suitably privileged to have just sore bottoms rather than join the multitude who have failed Her in the cellar.
 
Then it is time to change into more formal attire to cook and serve dinner. Madam has guests and we must lay out a table, prepare the food, polish the silver and provide entertainment. A maid's work is never done. The formal uniform is stiff and uncomfortable, hot and stifling. The stove is also hot, we must prepare all the food from fresh, make sure everything is beautifully presented. The guests are pleased with the silver cutlery and cut glass, the attentive service, the fine wines. There seems a never ending flow of work to do in serving the guests, even remembering the different wines with each course. Eventually, all is done and we can relax a bit as coffee and liqueurs are served. Entertainment is more singing and dancing, even as we long for rest in our high heels and know there are a few hours ahead to clear and wash up. Madam is in Her element, proud of Her charges, Her eyes gleaming.
 
At last, we are allowed to retire and begin the mammoth task of clearing up. Madam insists that everything is put away before we can go to bed, tired, exhausted but satisfied with our work as Victorian maids.

Wherever Mistress goes, you will no doubt always find one of her pink poodle bitches at Her side