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The Ruined Maid Belladonna Charles' heart raced as he slipped up the steps of the servants' staircase to their corridor. Not a sole girl was remaining there as they had all changed into their black, afternoon uniforms, leaving their freshly worn lilac dresses from the morning to him for the take. Charles searched the floor in silence to ensure that he was alone as he set about proceeding with his plan. A grin came upon Charles's face and grew wider as he removed his clothing to reveal the corset he had stolen from his sister. That its disappearance had led to the termination of a junior maid was of little consequence to Charles. He was above them all in life's pecking order and was above their concerns. Still, there was something about them that drew his eye. While it was a woman of his class that he was going to be forced to marry at some point, the lowly women were the ones he focused on. Charles could never speak it to anyone. He hardly let himself admit it in solitude, but to step into their shoes for a day was his greatest fantasy. It was that impossible dream that drove Charles up the staircase that afternoon. He knew that it was utter recklessness to take hold of one of the girl's dresses. He could never explain why he was there or what he was doing if he was caught. Still, the desire in him was unquenchable. Charles stepped into the plain dress. He could sense the residual warmth and dampness from the labors of the girl who had worn it that morning while he slowly brought it up his body. Charles's brought his hands through the long sleeves of the cotton dress before he buttoned the dress and played with the white collar that was the dress's only real decoration. The dress almost dragged across the floor as Charles went to retrieve an apron. Charles ran his fingers along the white apron before he placed it on. The full-length apron was designed with a fitted front with pocket and cross strap back. Charles fastened the button closure on each of his shoulders before his fingers returned to the edges of the apron. He ran his finger along the trim around his neckline and armholes and smiled at the way the stitched hem looked over his dress- covered ankles. As Charles stared down at the contrasting dress and apron covering his body, he began to fantasize about what it would be to really be one of the maids in household. He caught glimpses of it from his seat on the perch of the household's hierarchy. He pictured himself in one of the girls' shoes waking up at the crack of dawn or before it, depending upon the season. He smiled at the thought of brushing his hair into a bun and getting to work each morning. The servants' steps beckoned in his mind. Charles had ascended them many times before, he was sure he could descend them as easily in his dress, just as the girls did each morning to begin to clean and prepare their masters and mistresses' breakfast. Charles wondered how the girls felt each morning when they served his family breakfast. At times, he could hear their stomachs rumbling and wondered if they were famished while they placed a feast before him. Charles pondered if they thought that there was an unfairness in the world, or if they just accepted their station in life unquestioningly. Although Charles was sometimes uncomfortable with his station, he was sure that his servants were content with theirs since they did not seem to have time to dawdle on things such as class. In his eyes, theirs was a life of simple purpose, turning from one task to another. They were not burdened with leisurely hours where they were left to ponder the emptiness of their lives. While the thoughts of living a simple life consumed him, Charles took hold of the small maid's mobcap. He smiled at the white cap before he stuck it on his head while he daydreamed about what the girl who had worn it last was doing at that moment. Undoubtedly, she was laying out the lunch table for her betters. She would serve them and then clean up after them with no expectation that she do something more than the mundane tasks that suited her simple mind and humbling status. Charles smiled at the thought of being able to live free of real expectations as he clutched at his cotton, long sleeved dress, wishing that he had a mirror to admire his diminished reflection while he twirled slightly "You, maid!" Charles jumped as he heard the valet the family had hired to shadow him shout. He panicked and chose not to face him. "What are you doing here in that outfit? You're supposed to be changed and down in the dinning room. I have a half a mind to have the house steward dismiss you at once," the man bellowed while Charles stood still, trembling as he fought back tears. Growing impatient, the valet approached Charles and clutched his arm. Charles winced and cried out as he was forcibly jerked towards the physically stronger man to face him. The valet's eyes widened as he saw the face of the young lord he was accosting. A sense of instant fear over his actions dissipated quickly as a smile came across his face for a second once he realized what he was observing. The valet collected himself before he chided his master, "Did I make myself clear, girl? Get downstairs immediately." Charles shook his head at his bellowing valet, wondering if his servant did not recognize him. 'He only sees the dress', Charles thought hopefully while he shook in the man's strong clutches. The valet glared at Charles and began to pull him towards the door. "No. No," Charles cried out. "No? Who are you to tell me no, girl?" "I...um...I'm...," Charles stuttered while he tried to reply, excited by the way he was being treated, but horrified by the prospect of the exposure he was sure awaited him if he began to wait on his family hand and foot. "What is it, you stupid girl? I should have you dismissed for your insolence." To his horror, Charles's manhood swelled from the threats and insults he was taking from his servant. Charles wondered what insults his parents would give him if they recognized him. Still, he knew he could not face his family in the dress and apron. The presumed repercussions were far too great. "I can't go..." "You can't? You must." "I won't." "You won't? You forget your place, girl. You should be busted down to a scullery maid, if they keep you," the man shouted while he began to pull Charles towards the servants stairs. The thought aroused Charles as he shook his head and replied, "I'm sorry." "Sorry? Sorry is not an excuse. Sorry doesn't make it better," the valet said before he turned away from his terrified, young master. Charles shivered as the valet turned back towards him and said, "And you're still not even dressed properly." The valet's words made Charles's head jerk before the valet took hold of him by the shoulders. "What are you doing?" Charles asked as the valet began to remove Charles's apron and dress. "Please, Sir," Charles muttered weakly, wondering if the man was trying to assault him. "Stay still. This will be over soon," the man barked, making Charles's knees feel weak. The valets hand reached Charles's corset as he smiled and said, "Girl, where did you get this corset from?" "Um...I...I bought it," Charles replied. "There's no way a girl like you could afford something this beautiful. You stole it, and you let another girl take the fall," the man barked, causing Charles's knees to buckle as the man came close to the truth. The valet stood Charles up while he clutched the strands of the corset and said, "You didn't even lace it up right." Charles peered over his shoulder and caught the grin on the man's face. The look confused Charles before he felt as if the air was being sucked out of his lung as the strands were pulled tighter. The audible squeal of his master was enough to make the valet want to laugh, but he kept it in as he continued lacing the boy up before he reached for two straps. Charles caught sight of what the man took hold of wondered, 'Is he going to flog me?' Charles was slightly relieved as the man began tying the straps around his biceps. The valet smiled as he tied the straps around the boy's body, knowing that Charles would never be able to reach the corset strings with the straps limiting the range of motion of his arms. The thick straps would also be exceedingly difficult for Charles to cut either without assistance. As the valet finished tying the straps, he said, "Move your arms, girl." Charles did as he was told and was surprised by the limited motions he could make with his arms. "What did you do?" Charles shrieked. "Relax, my Lord," the valet said with a grin. Charles's hands began to tremble. He peered into his servant's eyes for a moment before his eyes darted away from the man's gaze. The valet grinned as he continued, "If you wanted to be a maid, I could have arranged for it long ago." "I don't, Banks." "Don't lie to me, girl." "I'm not a girl," Charles replied struggling to compose himself before he remembered whom he was and demanded, "And who are you to speak to me in such a way?" "The sole keeper of your dignity," the valet replied. "Let me out of this this instant." "You're in no place to make such demands, girl. How do think your Father and Mother will react to the truth? Such a queer boy might end up being sent far, far away so that he doesn't disgrace the family name. You know what they did to Pratt and Smith for buggery, girl?" "I'm not a homosexual!" "Are you not? Then, why would you dress like a woman other than to attract a man?" The valet asked as he clutched Charles' head with both hands. "That's not why I dressed like this," Charles muttered, unable to move his head an inch. "Then, why is it? Do you just want to serve?" "No. I don't want to be a maid." "Wanting to do so would not make you any less of a pervert," Thomas lectured. "I'm not a pervert." "Tell that to the authorities." "They won't believe you. I'm..." The valet's laughter silence Charles before the man said, "My father was in the service of relatives of Lord Arthur Clinton. Have you heard of him, girl?" "No." A grin came to the valet's face as he explained, "Lord Clinton was a man of greater stature than you. He was not just a scion of the land, but also the son of the Duke of Newcastle, the godson of Prime Minster Gladstone. He had access to such power, but he was caught with his frock-wearing boy of a wife and arrested. Do you know what he did?" "No," Charles replied, having never heard the disgraced Lord's name before. "They say it was scarlet fever that did in Lord Arthur Clinton, but my father knew it was suicide. It was never discussed, but that's what men in your position must do! His nobody, sodomite lover fought the charge and won, but you would never get that far. When the judgment looks like it will cometh, a noble must fall on his sword for the family good." Charles shook his head and said, "I'm not like him." "No. You're not like the Lord. You're like his sodomized lover. I doubt that will make things any easier for you." "What do you want from me?" The valet smiled at the pleading tone the young lord used. His evident desperation told him that he clearly had the boy fearing for his life. He looked Charles in the eye as he answered, "You are to leave for a year long holiday to America in a week. Another learning experience to help make a man out of you before you're off to university and a life as a married business man with the poor woman who ends up getting shackled to such a simpering weakling." "Yes," Charles replied, unable to counter the valet's perception of his future which mirrored his own view of it. "And I'm to accompany you." "Yes," Charles confirmed. "Once the liner leaves port, it will be you who are accompanying me." Charles gave the man a confused look prompting the valet to explain, "I will be Lord Charles Masterson, and you will be my servant." "Are you mad?" "No, but I wonder if someone might take you as a lunatic for dressing like a maid. Not even a woman of leisure, but a common maid. Now, that is madness, but perhaps you'll better understand all your privileges if you live without them." "And what if I refuse?" "Then, it's never coming off," the valet replied as he patted the sides of the corset. Charles began to panic and felt short of breath before he fell to his knees. Charles began to calm down while he looked at the maids' dress pinned beneath his knees to the floor. Charles stared up at his valet, never seeing him from such a humble vantage point before. It was a viewpoint that each maid in the home had probably had of the man at some point or another. The valet moved closer to Charles while he looked down at him and asked, "Do you agree to my terms?" Staring around his surroundings for a second, the daydream of being one of the girls came back to him. Charles knew that it was a foolish dream and a shameful one at that. The valet was offering him a chance to almost live it, whether he wanted to or not. 'I should refuse him', Charles thought before the self-perceived consequences of his refusal entered his mind again. Charles wondered if he could figure a way out of his binds, but knew that he had little choice other than to go along with the deal for the time being. An escape might be possible in the future, he figured, but he knew that objecting, now, might mean that his corseted adventures would be swiftly revealed. Charles nodded his head as he realized the stakes. The valet grinned before he helped the young lord to his feet. The valet helped Charles out of the dress before Charles redressed in his clothing with the valet's assistance. The valet then helped Charles sneak back down the stairs before Charles went to take his place with his family. The valet could recognize the terror on Charles's face as he approached his family, wondering if they could see his binds and corseted shape through his masculine clothes. Every glance they gave Charles made the hairs on Charles's neck stand up since he was sure that they were going to figure it out. By the time Charles retired to bed for the night, he felt as if he had suffered several near heart attacks from the various looks and tones he had heard that struck him as curious. Since no allegations or allusions came his way, Charles pondered if he was getting away with it and simply creating issues where there were none. The valet went with Charles to his bedroom to help him change for bed. The valet made Charles stand nude before him other than his binds and corset. Charles shivered from the cold draft in the room as the valet examined the slender body he had dressed numerous times before. He shook his head and said, "Your body looks a little weak for a maid." "But I'm a man...," Charles countered. "A very slight man with delicate features," the valet countered. The valet's words and cooing tone wrenched Charles's stomach as he wondered if the man was a homosexual. The valet's eyes lingered on him for a few more minutes before he helped him dress for bed. As he finished, the valet dismissed himself from the room while Charles covered himself in his sheets. Once the valet exited, however, Charles reached around his back to see if he could reach the strands of his corset. His feeble efforts in all directions left him several inches away from the strands he had laced that afternoon with such ease. A soft whimper came out of his mouth while he laid down and stared at the ceiling. He ran his straining fingertips along the straps of the binds that made his arms powerless to accomplish the task of ending the constricting feeling that was making it impossible for him to take deep breaths. He struggled to stand up while he searched around his room for something to cut the binds that were tied tightly around his arms. Finding nothing, he slipped back into his bed and wondered if he there was someone he could pay to remove the binds while maintaining his confidence. Charles sighed as he knew that there was no such person he could name in his world. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Charles stumbled out of bed as a commotion filled the room. His eyes opened wide to see the servant's quarters he had snuck into many times before. "What?" Charles asked himself as he saw the maid's scurrying around to get ready as if nothing was a miss. "Get a move on, Natalie," the housekeeper barked. 'Such insolence', Charles thought before he stared down at his chest and saw the large breasts hanging from his chest. His eyes darted towards his small hands and feet. "I'm a woman." "Brilliant deduction," his familiar housekeeper retorted before she chided, "Get a move on, girl." Charles clutched his chest through his cheap nightdress. "I have breasts." "We don't have time for anatomy lessons, Natalie. If you can't figure yourself out, we will be happy find another girl for your position." Charles nodded and sped up to keep up with the other girls. He knew that he had to figure out what happened, but he realized that it would much harder outside of his home. Charles watched while the other girls washed up before he began to do the same. Once they finished, they turned to getting dress. The thick black stockings went up his smooth legs first before he removed his nightdress and took hold of the lilac, cotton, long sleeved dress he had clutched the morning before. That had been fantasy to Charles. This felt real to him. Charles trembled as he put on the dress, realizing that he was finally where he wanted to be. Realizing that he was falling behind the other girls, Charles rushed to put on his dress before he stepped into his flat black shoes that hugged his feet. He tied his hair back beneath the cap like the other girls and realized that he must have looked just like them before he put on his apron. The tying of the strings of the apron over his back felt far more liberating to him than the binding corset he had been stuck in when he went to sleep the night before. With their personal appearance attended to, the girls turned to making their beds. Charles made his. It was not the first time he had done it. He had made his own bed before just to watch the confusion on his maids faces when the girl tasked to do it realized it had already been done. He wondered if they knew he did it or just wondered if they had forgotten doing it. Immediately upon finishing tucking the sheets away, the girls made their way towards the stairs. Charles descended the staircase for the first time in a dress. It felt so strange and liberating to him at the same time. He knew that his family was slumbering while he was being put to his useful labors. The girls made their way into the kitchen before Charles stood dumbfounded, unsure what to do. The housekeeper's eyes widened as she barked, "You're a stupid girl, even for a scullery maid, Natalie. Getting working on the fire this instant!" "Yes, Miss Emily," Charles reflexively replied, cowed by the woman who had been serving Charles and his family for his entire life. A feeling of powerlessness overcame Charles while he scurried towards the other scullery maids. All the authority and airs he was born with were gone. He was now the lowest of the low as he stared at eye level with of the other maids. As he helped his fellow servants stoke the fire of the kitchen range, Charles felt a strange arousal, knowing that he was finally in no position to neither make demands of anyone nor refuse anyone. With the kitchen range at an acceptable temperature, other servants took over at the range while Charles and his fellow scullery maids made their way back up the staircase. He wondered what task he and the rest of the girls of his new station were going to tend to as they reached the top of the stairs. The girls made their way towards the beds of the female servants as Charles followed a few steps behind them. They dropped to their knees and reached under them to retrieve the chamber pots. 'Oh, Lord', Charles thought as he dutifully fell to his knees before one maid's bed and retrieved her soiled chamber pot. Clutching it, Charles caught a sniff of the foul odor emanating from within the bowl. It made his nose turn before he retrieved a second pot and followed the other girls to empty the chamber pots. With the pots emptied, the scullery maids clutched vinegar soaked rags. Charles's eyes widened as he smelt the familiar pungent scent before he plunged the rag inside the pot like the other girls. He washed the feces and urine soaked pots with the rag, feeling like the absolute scum of the earth. The disgusting job made any lingering thoughts about being a young nobleman seem a pathetic fantasy. It was too removed from his reality. Whatever had happened had happened for a reason. A life of ruthlessness and leisure was not his life. This was his life. This was his purpose. It was a simple purpose to clean up after cleaners so that they could serve their betters. Once they finished cleaning the chamber pots, they returned them to their places beneath the beds of the female servants. They then descended the steps of the servants' quarters again and reentered the kitchen. Charles could tell that the servants whose positions dictated that they stay in the kitchen looked down on him and his fellow scullery maids. He had not noticed it when they were getting ready that morning, but their contempt for those of his lowly station was inescapable. They knew that they were above such things as cleaning up the excrement of servants. 'They must think we're filthy', Charles thought, liking the idea that these women so clearly realized that they were better than he was. Charles eyes followed the others of his position while they went to assist the lower servant's preparation of the morning tea for the upper servants. The cups were prepared, but they were not of a suitable station to deliver them. Instead, Charles took to cleaning the kitchen passages with another scullery maid, while the other girls cleaned the pantries, kitchen and scullery as the other servants worked around them. Charles felt strange being on his knees as he scrubbed the floor in full view of others. It was something he had only fantasized about doing. It seemed to be impossible, but it felt so real to him. It made everything else in his life before feel unreal by comparison. Perhaps the life of Charles Masterson was merely a fantasy, a diversion from Natalie's everyday drudgery. It seemed the only logical answer to Charles. The entry of the chef into the kitchen brought the scullery maid next to him to her feet. Charles hurried to follow suit, feeling his back ache a little as he got to his feet. "Good morning, sir," the plain looking maid next to him said as she curtseyed to the man. Charles wasted little time in following suit. The man who had served at his family's pleasure and made so many meals for Charles Masterson paid him no attention. Charles then dropped back to his knees and resumed his cleaning while he thought about how strange it was that this impressive man might have cooked for him in the past. It seemed ridiculous the more he thought about while he went about his scrubbing. As soon as he finished, Charles put away his tools of his new trade and went to set the table in the Servant's Hall for breakfast. Charles grabbed a quick breakfast with the servants before he cleared the table and brought the dishes into the scullery. He toiled with the others as they scrubbed each dish and cup clean before the girls went to change out of their soiled aprons. The remnants of a good half morning's labor were left on the apron he put aside as he put on a fresh apron and tied it around his body. He followed the other women to the main floor of the home while they made their way into the Main Hall for morning prayers. They all dropped to their knees as their prayers were led. As the prayers ended, Charles got to his feet and caught a glimpse of his mother, father and sister. His mother and father walked by, not acknowledging the servants' presence. His sister's eyes briefly met his. "Does she know?" Charles wondered, but she showed no sign that she was doing anything other than passively inspecting the help. Charles's heart raced as she passed him by without a word. He was relieved that he seemed to beneath her concern. He struggled not to laugh to himself as he thought about what she or his parents would say if they had caught Charles Masterson in a dress and apron while praying with the servants. It would be scandalous for the whole family. His unquestioned status as a woman was better for the family. They would never have to deal with their son disgracing the family. Charles smiled as he realized that he would never be a burden on them and that there were no expectations of him beyond the tedium of caring for his household tasks. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Charles awoke with a shake as he pushed himself off his bed and looked around at his familiar bedroom. He blinked his eyes and clutched at his flat chest. "No," Charles muttered as the weight of his family's expectations began to fill his mind again. His eyes clenched for a minute as his fingers touched his binds once more. He felt as if his world had deflated around them as he felt the thick straps. Charles opened his eyes and stared at his reality while he got out of his bed. His cheeks were flush from the humiliation of knowing that he was a nobleman under the thumb of his servant. He was no simple maid being left to do her duties. He was a scion who was simply unsuited for the pressures of his position despite the best schooling and training that money could buy. The valet entered soon after to dress him for the morning. Charles wanted to say something about his dream while the valet dressed him, but he was ashamed by the very thought of it. He wondered what the valet would make of it. He was the only one who knew that Charles had such fantasies. 'There's no way he could think less of me', Charles figured as the man finished dressing him. Rather than say a word though, Charles decided to keep the dream to himself. Charles went through his normal routine that day. He was served his breakfast, met with his father about the family's business and was put to use by reading to better himself before the family luncheon. They sat down together, each knowing their place while they were served. After lunch, Charles returned to the world of the printed word, stealing a glimpse of the help whenever he felt able to do so. The day was followed by dinner before he had his leisure time to fantasize more and think about the dream. He went to bed that night hoping that he would pickup where he left off. The night brought no such dream, however. The next morning, he arose and went through his same tired routine. The only thing that made it any different than a normal day were the same concerns of being outed by the binds and the corseted shape of his waist hidden beneath his clothes, which continued to torture him throughout the week. The unpleasantness of the constant squeezing of the corset was nothing by comparison to the unceasing fear he felt of what he was wearing beneath his clothing being discovered. That his sister saw fit to mention the unresolved case of her missing corset again only served to make him squirm more. He worried that the valet would soon tell the tale so that the terminated maid would no longer be used as a scapegoat. Charles brushed aside such worries though, figuring that the valet felt he had far more to gain by keeping it to himself than helping out an interchangeable dreg. The day of their departure was a welcome relief for Charles. He bid farewell to his family and set off with the valet for the ship that was to take them across the Atlantic. The valet saw the look of contentment on the young lord's face as they began to make their way from the estate. The fears of exposure dissipated as Charles also realized that he would soon be free of the corset that had begun to affect his sleep. The valet saw no reason to say a word while the carriage made its way down the road. It pulled up before a train station where the servants helped Charles exit the carriage as the valet exited as well. Charles's bags were picked up and carried towards the train under the watchful eye of the valet. After the bags were loaded, Charles got onto the train and waited for it to depart for the city where their port of departure was. The train began to chug down the track and Charles watched the world start to speed by as he was pushed further and further away from the familiar country life he had at home. Charles knew that the life that awaited him on the boat was going to be far different. He was no longer going to be the master, but the servant. He was disturbed that the thought aroused him, but he was not in denial about it. As humiliating as it was, he wanted it. He wished he could tell someone, but even the servant he was going to serve was not someone he would admit such a ridiculous thing to. Charles gazed out the window of the train car in silence, watching the countryside go by as he the train whisked through it. The train stopped at various points in small cities and towns filled with men and women, both noble and lowly, doing as they were supposed to do. Charles wondered why he had struggled against what came naturally to so many in his position. The train continued towards its destination and the port city grew closer. Charles's eyes widened as he looked at the smoke spewing factories and urban wastelands that were such a contrast to the rolling green hills and freshly tilled fields he had seen earlier that day. The city seemed like a squalid, utilitarian place that struck him as nothing more than one giant scullery room for societal dregs. After their train arrived in the station, they exited and made their way to another carriage that brought them to the hotel that Charles was to be staying at for the night. Charles was checked in and his bags were brought up before he was taken for a meal. Charles spent his day in the city, largely sequestered from the outside world outside of his meals. While he shared a few words with his valet and those that waited on him, Charles was largely silent while his mind fixated on what awaited him on the ship. He wondered how different it would be to serve. While serving as a valet had never been a fantasy, he figured that it was as close to being a maid as he would ever experience. That thought brought a little contentment to the young lord. The next morning, Charles and the valet left for the ship that was to take them across the ocean. Charles and the valet's bags were loaded aboard the ship after they boarded the ships with their tickets. The valet oversaw the delivery of the bags to Charles's room, as well as his smaller room that had been booked for him by Charles's family on the same deck so that he would be on hand to immediately tend to the only son. Charles waved goodbye to the onlookers on shore with the others on the first class deck before he made his way towards the inner sections of the ship. There was not a face he recognized while he made his way around the ship's deck. As he walked towards the interior of the ship, he caught a glimpse of his valet. Charles nodded his head as he saw his servant and decided to pretend to be unexcited about the prospect facing him, "Let's get this over with, Banks." The valet smiled at his muttering master before he said, without a hint of sarcasm, "Yes, my Lord." The valet followed Charles into his suite before the two men undressed. Charles wasted little time replacing his trousers with those of his valet before the valet placed on Charles's shirt and jacket. Charles gave the man a pleading look before he said, "Could you please remove my corset?" The valet shook his head and said, "Not yet, Banks." Charles's eyes widened as he heard himself called by his valet's name. "Then, when?" Charles countered, desperate to be free of it. "When we exit the ship." "I have to keep this thing on another week?" Charles shrieked. The valet nodded with a smile as he continued dressing in Charles's clothes. Charles shook his head while he covered his corset up with the valet's shirt and jacket before he stepped into his shoes. They looked at each other for a second before the valet began to groom himself to look more proper. The valet grinned as he said, "Banks, please follow me." "Yes, Banks," Charles replied. The valet glared at Charles for a second before he corrected him, "Do not call me by such a name, Banks." Charles nodded before the valet asked, "What is my name, boy?" "Charles." "My full name." "Charles Masterson." "And to you?" Charles swallowed hard as he felt his member stiffen before he said, "My Lord." The valet nodded before he had Charles open the door for him. It felt strange for Charles to follow behind someone else for once. He wondered if it would feel normal by the end of the trip. As they walked through the hall, a woman he did not recognize approached them. The young, aristocratic woman was dressed in an ornate walking dress. It was not unlike something that Charles had seen his sister wear. The young lady's eyes were drawn to Charles. She smiled as she examined him. Despite not recognizing her, Charles worried that she had somehow recognized him. He wondered if his ruse would end so soon after it started. The woman came to a stop before them. She smiled while she turned away from Charles and addressed the valet. "Hello, Mr. Masterson," she said with a cheerful laugh. Charles's eyes widened as he wondered why this girl thought that Banks was him and knew him by that name before she turned towards Charles and looked him over with a smile. Banks greeted the girl before she turned towards Charles and said, "You got such a lovely young boy working for you." "He's a delicate flower, this one," the valet replied, prompting Charles to blush. "I can see, but I hope he's strong enough to help my girl Bridget open a trunk." "It won't open?" Banks asked. "Quite right." Hearing the young woman's response, the valet turned to Charles and said, "Boy, please give Miss Bolton's maid whatever help she needs." "Yes, my lord," Charles forced himself to reply while he looked at his confident valet turned master before Miss Bolton informed Charles where he could find her maid. Charles followed her directions and made his way to her room. Charles knocked upon the door to the maid's room. She quickly drew it open and said, "May I help you, sir?" "Yes...a...Lady Bolton asked if I could be of service to you?" Charles said as he looked eye to eye at the woman who was almost the same size as him. "My Lady sent you?" The girl said with a smile. "Indeed," Charles replied. "What did she send you for?" The girl asked as Charles stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "She said that you needed assistance with a trunk." "Indeed, I do. I'm having some trouble opening it." "She thinks I can be of some assistance," Charles replied in a quivering voice, never having spoken with a servant girl on an equal footing before. "Why a strapping lad like you should have no trouble with it," Bridget said with a grin while she looked him over before she pointed towards the trunk. The gaze of the rough looking young woman did little to put him at ease as he tried to open the trunk. He struggled with it, but could not get it to budge. "Be a man, dear," Bridget chided as she shook her head at his struggles. Charles blushed and was eager to prove he was strong as he took off his jacket. The woman grinned at his response before he struggled again to open the trunk. "Are you sure it's unlocked?" Charles asked out of desperation as Bridget nodded. "Certainly," she replied before put her hand against his back and said, "but what do we have here?" "Nothing," Charles replied, quickly moving away from her. "It didn't feel like nothing," the strong woman replied as she ripped open his shirt. "How dare you," Charles replied, horrified by the woman's forwardness. "Curious, that a servant would wear such a pretty corset." "It's not a corset," Charles lied, knowing how feeble his denial of the obvious struck Bridget. "A corset doesn't belong under such clothing. We have to get you something prettier to wear, you little bugger." Her statement aroused Charles, but he wanted no part of admitting that as he shook his head before she produced a maid's outfit. "This will do," Bridget said with a grin. "That's your outfit," Charles countered. "It's yours now," Bridget retorted with a faux haughty tone. Charles stared at her with a slack jaw before she began removing his clothing. "Are you mad, woman?" "No, but I suppose you have to be to want to be maid." "Who told you that?" "Banks, my dear boy. He's a terrible gossip." "Who else has he told? How do you even know him?" "Don't worry, dear, the life you knew is behind you now." "What's that supposed to mean?" Charles asked as the shirt was pulled off his back. "Hopefully, you make a pretty girl because you seem a smidgen slow on the uptake." "I don't have to take that from you." "Sure you do. What else are you going to do?" "I'll...I'll...," Charles began to reply as he tried to come up with something to threaten her with. "Who are you going to tell? Who is going to believe you? Banks is Mr. Masterson now and will swear my word is as good as the Lord's." Charles gave her a dumbfounded look, as he wondered if she was bluffing. Bridget turned around and removed a pair of her underwear and said put them on. Charles stared at her in silence, prompting the girl to reply, "Must I do everything for you." Charles frowned before he stripped off his trousers. He dressed in the underwear before she handed him the black cotton dress she selected. As Charles put it on, he noticed Bridgett start undressing. "What are you doing?" Charles asked. Bridgett stared at him for a second before she dropped her dress and showed him her bound breasts. Charles face crunched, disgusted by the sight before she put on his shirt. "What's going on?" "Don't worry yourself," Bridgett retorted before she placed on his trousers. Charles shook his head as he put on her thick, black stockings without being requested. The allure of them was enough to stir his passions to wear them, no matter the situation. The sight of Charles gingerly bringing his black stockings up his legs made Bridgett realized that Banks had been correct in his description of the boy in front of her. She sneered a little at him before she placed on his shoes. As Charles finished fiddling with his stockings, he let his dress fall back towards the ground before he took hold of her boots. Charles stepped into them and laced them up. "We look ridiculous," Charles noted as they each stood dressed in the others clothes. "I can fix that," Bridget said as she removed the white maid's cap from her hair. She pulled it off and made her way towards Charles. She shook her head as she said, "This hair won't do." Charles thought he had a reprieve before Bridget said, "Fortunately, your lady thought mine would not do either." Charles's eyes widened as she removed a wig from her head, revealing her short hair that was almost as short as his own was. "That's a wig!" "Oh, plenty of girls wear fake hair these days." "But it's a full wig." "I'm not the only girl who wears one, and you won't be either." Charles stood still as Bridgett placed the wig upon his head and pinned it to the hair beneath. She tied the hair up as it had been when it was on her head. As she finished, making sure the cap was in place in his hair, she said, "Now, that's a perfect maid." "I'm not a maid," Charles quivered before the girl directed him towards the mirror. "What do you see?" Bridget asked. Charles did not want to admit that he saw a maid staring back at him. It was his fantasy and something he wanted. She was not quite the girl he pictured in his dream, but it was not a maid's place in life to draw attention to herself like a beautiful flower, the way it was for girls like his sister or Lady Bolton. A knock on the door, prompted Charles's eyes to be torn away from the mirror. Bridget did not hesitate to open the door as Lady Bolton and Banks entered the room. Banks closed the door behind them and managed to keep a straight face as he looked over Bridget and Charles. "Bridget, did he get the trunk open?" Lady Bolton asked Charles. 'She really cannot tell us apart', Charles thought as he stared blankly at the woman. "Bridget, answer me, girl," Lady Bolton demanded. Charles member stirred at being spoken down to in such tones by a lady. He shook his head and said with a curtsey, "No, my Lady." Bridget grinned and said, "Charles, please be a dear and see if you can do it before I get one of the crew in here touching her things." Banks nodded before he opened the trunk with little difficulty. Charles blushed as he saw Bridget snickering at his failures. As Banks turned away from the trunk he smiled at Bridget and said, "Banks, my boy. We have to clean you up." Charles's mind raced as he wondered if he really was taking Bridget's place. Banks stepped out of the room for a moment and returned with his scissors. As he began to snip away Bridget's hair, Charles asked, "What's going on?" "A valet cannot have hair like this," Banks said as he pulled on Bridget's hair. "Long hair is fine for a lord or a lady, but not a man servant," Edytha remarked. "But, she's not a man." "What are you talking about?" Bridget asked. "You know who you are?" "Certainly, Thomas Banks," Bridget replied with a grin. Charles shook his head before Banks asked him, "And who are you?" "I'm...um...I'm..." "Bridget," Edytha interjected, cutting off Charles's stammering reply. "And your last name?" Edytha asked. "As if it matters," Thomas added with a laugh. Edytha smiled at Thomas before gazing back at Charles. She looked at him, expecting an answer. Charles shook his head as he said, "I don't know." "She doesn't even know her name. What a stupid girl," Edytha replied before laughing. Charles felt the need to defend himself, "No one's told me...." "It's Tarn," Bridget interjected. "Bridget Tarn," Edytha added as she pointed at Charles. Charles shook his head before Edytha said, "Say your name." "It's Charles Masterson," Charles replied, hoping to throw the woman off guard. Edytha gave Charles a strange look before she looked at Thomas and said, "What did she say?" "She's clearly delusional," Thomas replied. "I'm not. I'm Charles Masterson. He's Thomas Banks and she's Bridget Tarn," Charles replied, stomping his foot. "What a queer thought," Edytha replied. "She's a strange maid," Thomas added with a grin. "I'm not a maid. I'm the son of a..." "Wench," Edytha interjected. "I'm not a..." "Man." "Stop that," Charles demanded. "You dare to speak to me like that, Bridget," Edytha barked while Thomas moved close behind her. "Do you want me to teach this ungrateful shrew her place," Thomas offered. Charles's remembrance of the similar sized man's far greater strength cowed him for a second as he stooped and said, "It's true." "What does your clothing tell you of your station?" Edytha countered. "It's a dress." "And who wear dresses?" "Girls." "And who wear pinnies over their dresses?" Charles shook his head before Edytha repeated, "And who wear pinnies over their dresses?" "Maids," Charles admitted. "So that makes you a....," Edytha asked, deliberately trailing off. "If anyone saw you they'd assume you were a...," Edytha added. "Maid," Charles answered. "Now, that we have that settled, Bridget, be a dear and set out my evening dress." "You want me to fetch your dress?" "You're my maid. What do think I expect from you?" "I'm your maid?" Charles replied as Thomas stood next Bridget. "Certainly," Edytha answered. Thomas smiled at Charles as he said, "Come along, Thomas. Let's leave the Lady and her maid to their devices. We'll finish up with you in your room." Edytha smiled as Thomas exited the room with Bridget in tow, the picture of a lord and his valet. Edytha turned her towards Charles and said, "You make a prettier looking maid than my last one." Charles's stomach churned at the thought, but he realized that Bridget was not an attractive woman. Charles looked at Edytha and asked, "Am I your maid?" "For the time being. Isn't that what you wanted?" Charles was confused by the statement. He wondered how she knew. She must have been told by Thomas, he figured. He looked back into the mirror in the room and smiled at his reflection that was partially obscured by Edytha. They looked every bit the lady and her lady's maid, except they were in the wrong room. "Come along, Bridget," Edytha ordered. Charles fought the smile coming to his face as his manhood began to swell while he followed Edytha out of the room. Charles opened the door for Edytha and followed her into her quarters that were far more spacious than his were. It was like the suite that he had been booked for, but he knew that he was not going to be spending much time in it. "Undress me," Edytha ordered as he closed the door. "I don't know how?" "So, you're a sheltered virgin?" Edytha inquired as her eyebrows rose. "Yes, Mistress," Charles replied, embarrassed by his admission. "You can start with my feet," Edytha directed her servant. Charles was turned on by her forceful direction and he bent down. He knelt before her and took her stocking covered ankle in his hand as he lifted her foot off the ground and removed her each foot from her pointed-toe, heeled boots. After removing her boots, Edytha motioned for Charles to stand. Charles followed her direction and got to his low-heeled feet. He waited for further instruction before Edytha told him to put her hat away. Charles nodded as he removed her hat before removing her shawl. Once Charles finished putting the shawl away, Edytha said, "Now, you can remove my skirt." Charles started to sweat as he thought about seeing the girl in her undergarments. It was something he knew women in his shoes did everyday, but he felt like a pervert knowing that he was a man who was going to be seeing this picture of femininity in such an intimate way. The dress that Edytha was wearing seemed imposing to Charles. 'How do you work this thing?' Charles wondered as he looked at the various hooks and ties that were holding the top to the skirt of the dress. Edytha smiled as she began to talk him through his work. Charles followed her instructions as he undid the hooks and ties. The skirt eventually came off in his hands and he gently brought it to the floor before Edytha stepped out of it. Charles looked at her body that was covered by her underskirt and slip. Charles stood up and removed the jacket of her dress. He placed it down before he turned and looked over her as he saw the camisole that rested over her chest. He had never seen a woman so scantily clad in his life. She had the pale skinned, upper class form that was similar to one he thought that he might find himself ravishing one day once he returned to his proper station. His male urges surged, but his manor of dress made clear to him that he was not there to seduce the lady, but solely to serve her every whim. Charles saw a smile on her face, but he was far too cowed to ask the reason. Instead, Charles asked what she wanted to wear that evening before Edytha directed him. She smiled at his eagerness and how he sprung to attention just as she felt a girl in his position should. Charles took hold of the dress Edytha wanted and brought it to her. Charles put the jacket of the dress over her polis?n and camisole first before he took hold of the skirt. After getting back down on his knees, Edytha stepped into the skirt and he brought it up to her waist before he began to hook the skirt in place and began to work with the ties. Once Edytha was in the dress, Charles took hold of the pointed toe shoes that Edytha had directed him towards. He carried them back to her and kneeled down again to put her feet into the laced patent leather shoes. Charles then fetched the shawl she ordered him to get for her. He brought it over to her and wrapped it around her. As he finished wrapping it around her, Edytha asked with a grin, "Do you know how wonderful it is to have a man cater to your every need?" "I suppose," Charles replied, knowing he had been served by members of both sexes his whole life. "Not as a man, girl. A woman being served by a man is so strange because it's supposed to be the other way around. Men are supposed to be the superior creature. It's such a strange concept." "Yes, my lady." "Oh, don't call me that. It's too cumbersome. Try Mistress." "Yes, Mistress." Edytha clapped her hands together and grinned, "To hear those words from a young nobleman's lips, I must be the first." "You might be, Mistress." "I like to think so. It makes me feel special to know that such a rich boy is catering to me. I can't wait to see you with the other servants." "Other servants?" "Oh, there are many others like me and Charles traveling with their servants. You must have seen them." "Yes, Mistress." "I bet some of the boys will take a liking to you, not that I doubt that you'll want to reciprocate." "No, Mistress." "Don't lie to me, girl. I need you to know that I don't fancy being lied to, but I fancy being embarrassed even less. I need you to understand that you may look at the boys, but you are not to touch them." "Yes, Mistress," Charles replied, not needing any orders or incentive to avoid a sexual encounter with any male servant on board. "Good, girl. I will hold you to your word because if I find out that your lips touched a single leg or that a limb is thrust into you, I will make sure that you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Am I understood?" "Yes, Mistress," Charles replied before he took hold of a hat at his mistress's insistence. "Good because I will not tolerate ladies of the evening or male harlots in my employ, and I will give you no sympathy," Edytha replied, while waiting for Charles to place the hat upon her head. Charles placed it on her before Edytha asked, "Do you know what is expected of you now?" "No, Mistress." Edytha pointed to her clothing on the ground and told him to collect them and put them away for washing. Charles nodded at her order before she explained that his role was not dissimilar to the role Thomas played for him. He was tasked with making sure that every inch of the room looked as it did the minute she first entered it, with not a thing askew. Charles nodded before Edytha exited the room to have dinner with the other first class guests. As Edytha exited the room, Charles turned and looked around the room. Each garment he had removed from Edytha was collected and put away in the dressing room. Charles's eyes fixated about the room as he put things away, he straightened up the various decorations in the room and checked the quality of the tucking of Edytha's bed. Seeing that it all looked up to the standards his mother and sister expected at home, Charles exited the room and headed to the area reserved for the meals of the first class servants. Charles entered the room and saw his fellow lady's maids and valets, as well as a few other secondary servants. While the valet and lady's maids stayed within close proximity to their masters, Charles heard some of the other servants gripping about traveling second class since they were not going to be needed until they departed the vessel. 'Ingrates', Charles thought before realizing that a girl in his position would likely be more sympathetic to such statements. He wondered what second-class accommodations even looked like. Still as he realized that they were not even the worst on the boat, he grew more irritable about the complaints. 'Some people don't know how lucky they are', Charles thought as he went to get his meal. As Charles went to sit down, he saw Bridget walking into the room. His mouth was slightly agape as he looked at the transformation the woman had undergone. Her hair was almost completely trimmed away, leaving only a short hairstyle that looked identical to his valet's. Charles shook his head. He hated the short hairstyles that some men had become enamored with having. He was told it was easier to maintain than his longer locks, but his father paid a valet good money to keep him well groomed. 'Why should I make it easier?' Charles remembered thinking. The effect on the girl was striking. Her body appeared shapeless. Her face was naturally more jagged than most girls he had seen in his life. He felt that he made a more attractive maid than she did, however, it was her ugly appearance that likely drew Edytha's attention anyway. He figured that she wanted to look good by comparison and to be around a girl who was of no threat of catching the wandering eye of any of her virile suitors. Bridget greeted him warmly before they sat at a table to dine. Charles watched as some of the men examined them. They looked for signs that Charles was involved with Bridget. Sensing his lack of attraction to her, one of the men moved closer to him. He pulled out an open seat and sat next to Charles. Charles was surprised by his forwardness as the man gave him a lecherous look that made Charles's skin crawl. "Hello, my dear. Richard Parker." "Pleasure to meet you," Charles lied. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name," Richard replied as Bridget smirked. "It's Bridget Tarn," Charles replied. "What a lovely name. It's becoming of you." "Thanks," Charles replied with a scowl as he took a bite of his meal. Richard could tell that Charles was not smitten with him, but that was not going to stop him. Richard placed his hand upon Charles's knee and said, "I hope I'm not being too forward..." "Too late," Charles interjected. "I like a little feistiness in my women," Richard replied with a grin as he began to rub Charles's knee. Charles pulled his legs back away from the man. Richard sulked for a second before he grinned and said with a wink, "I'll see you around." Charles nodded, hoping that he could somehow avoid him. Bridget sat down next to Charles and ate before she started telling him stories about Edytha. Charles nodded along as he heard about her education and the life she lead at home. It was not much different from that of his sister, except that Edytha appeared to be a better student and more intellectually curious than his sister had ever been. While his sister wanted nothing more than to marry a man of great wealth and rule over the manor as the Lady of the home, Bridget led Charles to believe that Edytha wanted something more. "She should have been born a man," Charles muttered as he ate. Bridget nodded while she replied, "It would better suit her than others." Charles glanced up at Bridget, knowing that the comment was meant as an insult towards him. Still, he could not deny that she might be right. After finishing their meal, Bridget led Charles into the smoking lounge. He smoked a cigarette beside his fellow servants before he said goodnight to Bridget, hopeful to turn in for the night in peace. As Charles made his way towards his accommodations, one of the male servants followed him down the hallway. Charles could sense his presence. He stopped and turned to face the man who descended upon him quickly. The man clutched Charles's waist and pulled him close before grabbing Charles's ass. Charles was aghast as he pulled back at the man, surprised by how aroused he was to be taken in such a brutish away. The man smiled at Charles and said, "Don't be such a prude. You're not a lady." "I'm not a fallen woman either," Charles countered, trying to shake free of the man. The man laughed before he replied, "We're on a boat, my dear. We each need something to pass the time." "I have books," Charles retorted with a huff before he turned and walked away from the frustrated man who leaned against the wall and watched Charles move towards his door. Charles wasted little time in pushing the door open and closing it behind him. He looked at the burning lamp before he saw some of the books that Bridget had packed for the trip. Charles sat down and looked at the titles. He knew that they likely came for his Mistress. Although none of them excited him, he knew he was expected to better himself in his leisure time. Charles read the book for over an hour before he saw Edytha push her way inside the room. "Yes, Mistress," Charles replied getting to his feet to greet her. "Bridget, what are you doing?" "I was reading, Mistress," Charles answered in a meek tone that amused Edytha. "I'm turning in for the night," Edytha replied. "Understood, Mistress." Edytha looked at Charles expectantly before she added with a glare that made Charles' nervous, "Are you not going to attend to me, you stupid girl." Charles was struck by her tone. He shook and stammered while he apologized for Edytha before he hurried to follow her out of his room and into hers. Charles closed the door to Edytha's larger, ornate room behind them. Edytha smiled at her fearful, bumbling maid. He struck as her as the picture of dainty submissiveness as she said, "It's okay, Bridgett. You know I can't stay mad at your pretty face for long." Charles smiled at her before Edytha had him start to undress her. As Charles began to remove her clothing, Edytha asked, "So, how was your day?" "Weird." "Queer in a good way?" "You could say." "Could I?" "Sure." "Then, I suppose I just did." "Yes, Mistress," Charles replied with a smile at her playful tone as he put her jacket down before he started removing her next layer of clothing. "So, was it everything you dreamed?" "What dream?" Charles panicked, wondering how she knew. "Okay, maybe fantasy, if you're going to be a martinet for semantics." "Sort of." "Sort of? What kind of answer is that?" "Well, I dreamed of serving, but not like this!" "What did you expect?" Edytha asked with a laugh. "I always did more cleaning." "So, you want to clean? Is that you want? To be a dirty girl? A scullery maid? Do I have that right, girl?" Charles gasped at how she seemed to pickup on his basest desires. Edytha smiled as she brushed her hand against his stomach before clutching his erect manhood through his heavy maids' dress. Charles blushed as she laughed and said, "So, it's true?" "What, Mistress?" "That you want to be a scullery maid?" "No, Mistress," Charles lied while his manhood surged in Edytha's hand. "Your unlady like reaction gives you away, Bridgett." Charles blushed again before Edytha released him and said, "Enough dawdling, Bridgett. Get back to work." "Yes, Mistress," Charles replied as Edytha smiled at the words passing through the young scion's lips again. "You seem to know your place in this world, Bridgett," Edytha said once Charles finished removing another garment. "I do?" "Yes, you know that you exist to serve. Don't you?" "Yes, Mistress," Charles replied as his manhood surged again. "And a lady like me exists to be served?" "Certainly, Mistress." "Then, we make a wonderful pair, Bridgett." Charles was confused by her statement before she clarified, "A wonderful mistress and maid, each knowing their proper station." Charles nodded before he went back to removing her clothing. Edytha soon stood in front of him dressed only in her undergarments. She smiled at him over her shoulder. She could see him checking her out, 'So, there is a trace of masculinity under that dress', she thought. Edytha turned towards Charles and asked, "How is it being a girl in your station?" "Why do you ask? Do you want to trade places?" Charles inquired with a smirk. Edytha's smile left her face as she shouted, "Such insolence! I have the right mind to have you caned. Addressing your lady like that! A lady's maid is a place of privilege, girl. You truly should be a scullery maid!" "Sorry, Mistress," Charles replied, trembling with his chin buried in his faux bust. Edytha laughed as she looked at his cowed body language and bowed head. After she collected herself, she replied, "There's your answer, girl. I don't want to be in position where a woman has me shaking in my boots." Charles's heart slowed down as he heard her words. He breathed a sigh of relief before Edytha ordered his assistance with removing her underwear. "This is really inappropriate, Mistress," Charles reminded Edytha as he helped remove her sleeveless chemise. "But being a man serving as my skirted maid is?" Edytha countered while she clutched her chemise. Charles blushed before she asked, "So, what do the boys think of you?" "Nothing. I suppose." "Nothing? I doubt that. Even your predecessor had her share of desperate suitors chasing after her, and she did not look half as good in that dress as you do." Charles beamed at the compliment. He then replied, "Well, some guys came onto me." "Really, how?" "The usual way." "How did you usually do it?" "Well, I never..." "Certainly, you would not. You were a man of breeding. Men like Charles Masterson don't go around chasing women like dogs. They're too refined...such a pity, really." "These men are different," Charles replied, shaking his head and ignoring the tense Bridgett had used to describe him. "They certainly are, Bridgett. They lack breeding." "They're certainly trying to breed." "They're not trained," Edytha noted. "Trained?" Charles replied, repeating only his Mistress's word that confused him so. "Men are like horses. All men need to be trained or their true nature comes out." "So, if I follow, these men must be wild broncos then." Edytha grinned in response while she inquired, "What did they try?" "One guy touched me..." "A man touching a woman, who would have thought such a thing was possible outside of marriage or a prostitution den?" Edytha responded with feigned seriousness that she punctuated with a laugh. "He kept leering at me." "Better you than me," Edytha cracked. "And this other guy grabbed me." "Grabbed you?" Edytha's eyes widened as she spoke the words, seeking clarification. "Yes, he grabbed my bottom and kissed me." "He treated you like a common whore!" "Yes," Charles replied casting his eyes down as Edytha let her chemise drop to the floor. Charles eyes widened as she stared at her bare chest. His eyes followed her body down to the overlapping drawers and the stockings beneath them. "You look uncomfortable," Edytha said as she stood before him nearly in the nude. "It's these binds," Charles noted, telling a half-truth. "Oh, yes, the binds that Charles Masterson let me hear about. The one's that have my maid operating at less than peak physical prowess, let me see them." Charles hesitated before he reached to remove his dress. Edytha's eyes widened as he struggled to strip down to his corset and binds. "Let me get those for you, dear." Charles watched as Edytha began to untie the binds that had trapped him in the corset. She smiled as she released him and said, "As you ca