Damsel, Dominated: The Life Of A Maid And Her Mistress free porn video

Damsel, Dominated The Life of a Maid and her Mistress By Lea Rose I have a friend, let's call her Amanda. She's an intelligent, university educated woman with an increasingly exciting career working in digital marketing. She's open-minded, liberal, not scared to experiment. She travels (made obvious to anyone who takes five-seconds to look at her instagram page), takes part in all sorts of athletic feats that I wouldn't dream of (do I want to spend my Saturdays running half-marathons? I'd rather take on that season 5 box-set of Friends if you don't mind.) Basically, she's the model of a young millennial woman. And what do young millennial women like more than anything? Sexual liberation! Experimentation! Add a few lesbian experiences and you've probably just about summed her up. Except one thing, which, over coffee some weeks ago, she revealed to me in confidentiality. Her boyfriend (let's call him John), finds feminisation, transvestism, femdom (female domination, for the innocent among you) and what those in the business call "sissification" the most erotic thing imaginable. And Amanda, true to herself, treats him to it on a fairly regular basis. Now I also like to think of myself as one of this class of liberated, intelligent millenial women. Of course, unlike Amanda I spend more time writing blog-posts on contraception and columns for sex-ed websites than I do trekking around Laos (where?), but you get the picture. But Amanda's confession surprised me... really surprised me. This was a side of her I'd never heard, and a side of fetish-play that I'd never really given much thought to either. Sure I knew about BDSM and crossdressers, but the way Amanda spoke of her relationship with John sounded far more advanced and multi-faceted than I could have imagined. After my third skinny latte I was hooked, and wanted to know more. Of course, Amanda is far too modest to want to lay bare her kinky sex- life in these pages. Sure, you probably want to know what name John goes by on "sissy-weekends" and how high his heels are, but those details will have to be left to the imagination. And so, I was left with a problem. How do I write about this phenomena if the only "sissy" I know doesn't want to reveal all to the curious readership of this magazine? Well, simply put, I went and found myself another sissy. And a mistress. And an impressive townhouse in an up-market part of London. As I was soon to find out, this discovery was to be a great boon to my quest documenting the weird and wonderful expressions of human sexuality that one can find in this country. When my editor gave in and commissioned this piece (it took some persuading) I immediately took to the phone. I knew the lady I was going to call, and it was Amanda who had given me her number during that first fateful conversation. Her name was Helen Reid; property developer, entrepreneur, businesswoman. She became known to Amanda soon after my friend had dipped her toe in the waters of "FLR," or female- led relationships. Amanda told me Mrs. Reid would probably be perfectly happy to speak to me about sissification and the femdom lifestyle. To be perfectly honest, I had never heard of her, despite her apparent career successes and not inconsiderable wealth. On the phone, she sounded sweet and polite, reassuring, even, that my attempt to get to know her better and arrange an interview in person would be no trouble to her at all. She had the polished accent of a well-heeled woman, with the slightest hint of french influence (unsurprising, given that I was later to learn of her bi-annual visits to her holiday home near Marseilles.) Very rarely did my stories develop this easily. The characters one usually finds in my work are far more secretive about their activities, and certainly far less willing to invite you to tea than Mrs. Reid. We agreed to meet the week following the phone call. On the tube there, I began to worry; I knew little about her other than what Amanda had told me, and was afraid this ignorance would come across as rude given her own courtesy towards me. Still, I was there to talk about her private life. Nothing you could glean from her LinkedIn page. I was dressed smartly enough (that Marks and Spencer's dress making an appearance, again), and, obeying the voice of my inner-journalism- student, was hauling pretty much the entirety of my journalist's survival kit in my bag. In the end, I shouldn't have been so afraid. The neighbourhood made me feel out of place (does anyone need two Porsches in London?), but the welcome I received once I reached Mrs. Reid's door was faultless. Now, the lady who answered the door looked relatively normal. She was on the small side for a woman, with shoulder-length auburn hair. She wore a smart pair of heeled pumps matched with a modestly-cut black dress, tights, and a cardigan. I knew this was not Mrs. Reid by the simple fact of her apron. Was this Mrs. Reid's sissy? She looked like a woman, no doubt about it. She even had a woman's shape, with hips and a pair of breasts. Now, I've never lived in a family who ever had any hired help (which made me feel a bit out of place at Cambridge), so I tried to speak to this woman as an equal. She shook my hand nervously and invited me in. It was Mrs. Reid herself who put a stop to any further conversation. She emerged behind a door with a beaming smile. "Come in, come in!" In contrast to her maid, Mrs. Reid was a tall woman. She looked the height of fashion; a flowing, floral printed skirt and beige turtleneck. She wore a lovely pair of silver heels (I looked to get myself a pair as soon as I had the chance) and a statement necklace. Her hair was beautiful; auburn like her maid's but cut in a rather more graceful style. To be quite honest, she was the woman you always wished you were. I was jealous, especially so given she was about twenty years old than me. I hope I don't make her come across as some distant or snobby figure. She was incredibly warm and inviting (at least to me). Her attractiveness lended more credibility to her involvement in female domination; what man wouldn't want to throw himself under her boot? The house was how you would imagine, a large London townhouse with beautiful furnishings. The living room she invited me into was gorgeous too (bigger than my own apartment, I realised later, sulking). We had tea, brought with a dainty little tea set. I noticed the maid's fingernails were painted crimson, like my own. She smiled when I pointed it out. It's an indispensible method of mine when getting close to subjects for a piece, lightening the mood. I might have dumped my tablet and papers on the tea table like the klutz I am, but Mrs. Reid made me feel comfortable and we got talking about mundane things like Strictly Come Dancing and the living-room wallpaper. Still, I wasn't planning to overstay my welcome, and decided to push on with my research. Who was this woman serving us? I had my suspicions but Helen (as she bade me call her) cleared everything up. Her name is Ms. Penny. Oh, Miss! So she is a woman after all? Well, not exactly. "That's a name I chose," Helen said, as Ms. Penny busied herself in the kitchen. "Quite a long time ago now." There was something very Downton Abbey about that name, I thought. A bit on the prissy side, I must admit. But Mrs. Reid has her tastes. "She's your maid then?" "She's a Ladies" Maid, the old-school sort," Mrs. Reid replied. "How old-school are we talking?" Mrs. Reid laughed in return. "You'd be forgiven for not knowing these days," she said. "But around here it's not too uncommon for a woman to hire a Ladies" Maid. Anyway you'd know Ladies' Maids from period dramas and things. Women and girls in charge of looking after a wealthier Lady's every need. She didn't just clean as most maid's did, but involved herself with her mistress" hair and dress too. Of course that kind of service is far more rare now than it was in the 1800s, so in that sense what Ms. Penny does for me is quite special" "But your maid is "special" in another way, isn't she?" I probed. Helen smiled again. "You could say that. Special is a good way of describing it. We have a bond that goes beyond 'employer' and 'employee.' That's not to say it's on more level terms of course... in fact our relationship is far more stringent than you'd get away with between an employer and employee. But that's to my benefit. It offers more flexibility." Helen was enjoyable to listen to, with her measured tones and easy mannerisms. She spoke matter-of-factly, a way that seemed incredibly honest. I knew then that I could prise a wealth of information out of her and build a fuller picture of her life with her maid. Of course I've been in this game far too long to fail to notice the euphemistic way she talked about Ms. Penny, but I played along. I felt I was getting a glimpse into a relationship far more "in-depth" than the one between Amanda and John. Sissy-weekends? Here we were on a Tuesday night being served by someone who would "pass" under a microscope. Ms. Penny wasn't in some frilly fetish costume, but was dressed in sensible, normal, ladies' clothes. She was there to work. Obviously Mrs. Reid knew why I was there, and was very willing to divulge, as if she was taking a weight off her shoulders. "Ms. Penny has been with me for about six years now," she said, looking at the reflection of the room in the bay windows. She crossed her legs and straightened her skirt. "That's a long time," I replied, "she must be very loyal." "Yes she is. But at that time six years ago I got to a point in my career where I didn't have to be at the steering-wheel of three businesses anymore. My property businesses in the UK had settled in and I was bringing in a great deal of income. I had managers under me who could deal with administrative and client-facing issues. My French portfolio was also running capably. Basically I decided to step back and focus on myself. That's not to say I don't dip my toes into the business-side of things now and again." She looked to the door as Ms. Penny walked in with more tea. I smiled at her but she didn't raise her eyes from the tray she was carrying. She then left again, closing the door. "So after all this hard work," I asked, "after enjoying all this success; you wanted to be pampered? Take it easy?" "Oh definitely. Now, I've always been a girly-girl, a bit of a princess," Helen continued. "Always loved getting my hair done, can't resist a new pair of heels... it's been the same since I was a little girl. I don't know why that is. My Mother has something to do with it, I imagine, plus I went to girl's schools, had sisters at home. Not that that stopped me achieving things in my career. I might be your typical girl in terms of my tastes in clothes but put me in a boardroom or tell me that one of my business strategies won't work... well then I can show you what I'm made of." "I have no doubt about that," I added, smiling, "I was just a bit nervous coming over here knowing you were such a successful woman. Someone I should be looking up to." "Oh thank you dear, but please don't feel intimidated. It's just us girls, I'm letting my hair down nowadays. I was looking forward to chatting to you. But anyway, it was six years ago, stepped back a bit from my businesses... now I've also always enjoyed having domestic help, but mostly just hired maids who'd come during the day and clean everything up. The kind of 'hands-on' service that I dreamed about wasn't available on the market. Sure you've got your live-in Au Pairs, but my daughters are grown up. I wasn't looking for a tutor. I wanted a permanent, live-in, full-time, Ladies' Maid, and I just couldn't get one. I wanted someone to dress me, do my hair and make-up, domestic chores and laundry, everything. I had the money, but there was no market." "That's not all that bad of a position to be in!" I joked. "Well, no it isn't," she replied smiling. "First world problems and all that. But it just annoyed me that I couldn't solve this issue. Now, strangely, it was my daughter who first introduced me to the 'girl' who would become Ms. Penny. Not in the back pages of Tatler, mind you. She was originally my daughter's boyfriend, Andy." I wrote the words "daughter's boyfriend!!" in horrendous script in my notebook. Helen saw the look on my face and quietly laughed. "I was put-off at first. My daughter's an attractive girl, she's my daughter after all, but this guy was, well, a bit diminutive. Definitely feminine. I knew that instantly. But you see, girls go to these universities and meet these intelligent boys... I predicted their relationship wouldn't last, and it didn't. Andy was a few years older than her, but still about the same size. Obviously intelligent but had his weaknesses, far too many for Rachel's taste. I'd met him a few times over the year and, well, I 'tested' him in many ways. He became quite afraid of me, heaven knows why. But it was easy to move from that to having him wash-up for me when Rachel wasn't around." "Washing-up isn't so bad, is it?" "No," Helen continued, "so my real 'in' was that I'd have certain stipulations that would need to be fulfilled for him to continue dating my daughter. He was really infatuated with the girl. I made sure he kept his hair long, for instance. Completely clean shaven, despite Rachel thinking he looked too young. Despite that, it was entirely up to me, and I had some justification there, given that I helped them move in together in London when Rachel landed an impressive graduate job. Of course Andy was still struggling to make his way. He wasn't a self-starter like my daughter. I offered him more time-consuming jobs around my house, since it's only a tube-ride's distance. The deal was that I'd pay rent for the both of them as long as Rachel was working and he was doing days at my house. The amount of chores that needed doing was becoming a full-time job." "You didn't hire a maid at that point?" "I'd actually ended the contract with a maid-service a month before. It was a coincidence that Andy made his appearance around that time. So I had him pick up the slack, and from there it was simply a matter of increasing the days he had to come. Two days a week cleaning his potential Mother-in-Law's house is not enough for London rents, I don't care if he's my daughter's boyfriend! Three days a week, cleaning bathrooms, kitchen and vacuuming felt better, but four days with a day for laundry was even more convenient. He fell into my web; I know it's cruel, but I knew immediately that he was extremely submissive." "What gave that away?" I joked. "Well, you joke, but I pushed two changes and was amazed at how easy it was to have my wishes fulfilled. First I got him in a full five day week contract, but then added a sixth day, either Saturday or Sunday at my discretion. There came a week when I was having business visitors almost every day and was nervous about having this boy in the house. Now I was cautious about how to resolve this problem. Didn't want to scare him off. I bought some uniforms, in the hope of making it less obvious that he was male. So that it wasn't obvious that I was alone with some strange boy every day of the week. Hair tied back, with a headband, plus a maid's smock and women's trousers. A pair of ballet flats. It's not like I had him in heels and a dress." "And this disguise worked?" "Well, the thing is, it wasn't really a disguise. She looked like a house-maid and that's what her job was. Since she never spoke to any visitors, since she was mostly busy somewhere else in the house, anyone would be forgiven for thinking she was just an eastern European hired maid." "I must admit that, if I didn't already know your circumstances, I wouldn't have suspected a thing either." "And that's intended," Helen added. "Still, Rachel broke up with him eventually. She was annoyed at his failure to find graduate work, and she found out he was wearing women's clothes while working for me. She was angry with me. But I justified my actions well enough. Besides, Rachel confessed privately to me that she had been seeing another guy at her work, a far taller, masculine guy. I preferred him a lot more to Andy. So in the end Andy moved in with me since she started sleeping with this guy in their apartment." I almost choked on my tea. "With Andy there, in the apartment?" "Oh yes. And rumour has it that they bullied him into wearing his smock and flats to clean up. If that's true then, well, I'm very proud of my daughter!" I didn't know whether to be enthralled or slightly disturbed by Helen's tale. It seemed so easy the way this Andy fell down the rabbit hole, how he ended up under Mrs. Reid's elegant thumb. Helen's relationship with her daughter's ex didn't sound like some run-of-the-mill fetish play but real control. "And how did he feel about all this?" I asked. Helen smiled and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh I don't know. To be honest I don't care." "You don't care?" "Not really. What you need to understand is the ease by which Ms. Penny became a part of this house. It was not difficult to get her into a maid's uniform. I freely admit that I'm an unusually forceful woman at times, and that that explains my success in life to a great extent, but Ms. Penny fell into this life without much difficulty. She gave up her masculinity to be my maid for good." "Gave up her masculinity?" "Yes. Just as I said. Became my maid and all that that entails. She began to appear as a woman, live as a woman, etcetera. A Ladies' Maid can be nothing else but a woman." "And this Andy just changed his life and gender out of his own free will?" "What do you mean by free will?" Helen scoffed. "Everyone's constrained by circumstances. These circumstances were the ones that led to Ms. Penny becoming the woman she is. Don't get me wrong. It can never always be smooth sailing. I never thought it would be. There's a give- and-take, between my demands and what my Ladies' Maid can offer. No. I don't believe she ever had envisioned herself living and working as a woman and in a woman's line of work. By the time she was living here and doing my laundry in a dress and heels after her relationship breakdown with my daughter, well, then the terms changed and changed quite rapidly. We decided to organise legal matters first; waiving certain employment rights that would have made her position in my house impossible. Basically to ensure she can 'live-in' with long hours but without the benefit of the usual wage requirements." "So she doesn't get paid? Is that what you're saying?" "She gets benefits. Plenty of them, but not 'pay' in the normal sense, no, not really. She gets room and board here. She gets days off if she's sick. I buy all her clothes and cleaning and beauty supplies." "She gets to live in this nice house, I suppose." "Yes, yes she does." Mrs. Reid picked up her cup of tea. I saw her lipstick marks on the rim. "She has her own room?" I asked. "Indeed she does. Would you like to see it?" I nodded. I was here to understand as well as I could their relationship. I needed to see how Ms. Penny lived, what it was like to be a Ladies" Maid for this confident woman. Suddenly Helen turned to call Ms. Penny into the room, and she very quickly reappeared. "Will you show Ms. Rose here your room?" she asked. After a brief walk through the hall and up the stairs, Ms. Penny stopped at one door among many on the landing. Both Mrs. Reid and I stood side-by-side as she opened it. She looked nervous. I can't imagine she ever received visitors interested in her, nor visitors who wanted to sneak a peek into her private room. But she need not have worried; the room was smart and tidy, though plain. The one window had its lacy curtains drawn. I caught a glimpse of assorted ladies" clothes in the wardrobe, and several pairs of smart heeled shoes were lined up against the wall. "Why don't you try on the new dress I bought you for Ms. Rose?" Helen asked. At the faintest hint of hesitation on Ms. Penny's part, Helen, ever the woman of action, marched to the wardrobe and began rifling through the clothes assembled there. She took out a very formal, traditional-looking maid's dress, complete with white collar and cuffs. Ms. Penny didn't really react. Then Mrs. Reid turned to me. "It's alright if she undresses in front of you, isn't it?" Naturally, I agreed. I've seen orgies play out in front of me while researching pieces, so someone getting changed was hardly going to leave me shaken. Looking back now, I should have been more attentive to the fact that Ms. Penny would probably have a problem with some random woman watching her change. But then Mrs. Reid worked so fast that I couldn't tear my eyes away. Off went the apron, cardigan, and dress. Underneath all that she had what looked like the entire spanx catalogue on at once (enough to make a girl wince); including, of course, a full slip, girdle, and bra (which held snug a pair of false breasts). What I caught a glimpse of next shouldn't really have surprised me. I knew from my talk with Amanda how intertwined sex and control are in the "sissy-psyche" as she called it. Still, seeing the outline of the chastity cage through Ms. Penny's girdle was an experience. She herself must have known it was going to be quite conspicuous, and, in a hurry, gave herself willingly to Mrs. Reid putting the maid's dress over her head, the hem of which covered the shape of her chastity and hung modestly at mid-calf. Mrs. Reid obviously saw my expression. "You're wondering about the chastity cage I presume?" "Well, after seeing it, what else is there to talk about?" I answered. "It was Rachel that wanted it." "Your daughter?" "Oh yes. I didn't think they were real until she showed me. I've never been much of an experimenter in the bedroom, with my husband or anyone else. Still, I came over pretty quick to seeing the advantages of it." "...to controlling her, Ms. Penny's, orgasms?" Helen revealed a look of disgust. "I'm not in the business of "controlling" anyone's orgasms." She bade her maid to sit on the bed on the side facing me, before handing the maid the cardigan she'd only just taken off, putting it in her lap. "I don't control them insofar as I try not to think about my maid's sex-life at all," said Mrs. Reid, continuing. "Rachel holds the keys." "So does Rachel regularly come and deal with that side of things?" I asked. "No, they're not in a relationship anymore. Even if she wanted to provide favours of that nature to her ex-boyfriend she would find it difficult. She's been living and working in Marseilles with my husband for the past two and a half years." "And so it just stays on all the time?" The disapproving look on her face almost made me regret asking (then again, I've asked far too many awkward questions in my career to regret this one). "One thing you need to understand," Mrs. Reid replied, "is that Ms. Penny gave up those aspects of her life in becoming a Ladies' Maid." Helen placed her manicured hands on her subordinate's shoulders. "She doesn't have the time and, I hope by the way I've trained her, shouldn't even have the inclination for any erotic things. You don't think it's disgusting and disrespectful to mishandle yourself in your employer's home? If the chastity makes sure that none of that ever happens then I'm glad Rachel suggested it." She patted her maid on the shoulder patronisingly. "Ms. Penny has enough to worry about," she added, "without all this talk about sex and relationships. The ladies who did this job in Victorian times certainly didn't worry themselves about these matters. They were respectable, modest women. No Ladies' Maid would be caught dead touching herself or any of that nonsense. Real life wasn't like a period drama where the maids shack up with the doormen. Not at all. Ms. Penny should be proud that she's so focussed on her job and her mistress like her predecessors were. And her job is strikingly similar to theirs, so their "Ladies" obviously haven't changed much in the past century! They still need dressing and pampering, always will. Come, I'll give you a taste." Helen stood from the bed and beckoned us to follow. Ms. Penny quickly put her apron back on over her new frock. I pitied her, having everything laid bare must have been dreadfully embarrassing, and I had no idea of the extent to which her sexual pleasure was being curtailed. Would it drive someone crazy to be kept frustrated for so long and with no hope of any sexual satisfaction or sexual freedom? If I learned one thing from this visit, it was that Ms. Penny keeps everything well under wraps. A consummate professional if there ever was one. Mrs. Reid lead us to her bedroom which was only a few doors away, although her room could have belonged to an entirely different house. We walked through double-doors into a vast bedroom with a wide bed and windows overlooking the back-garden. But even this was not enough, as Mrs. Reid lead us into a walk-in closet room, furnished with a vanity and a shop's worth of makeup. She asked me to sit down. "I'd like to treat you to something, Ms. Rose." She'd obviously planned this. "Let Ms. Penny do your makeup, or your nails too if you'd like?" Ms. Penny was already bustling around the vanity table arranging things, so I quickly agreed to some touches of make-up. That would be the polite thing, wouldn't it? Although I've never been close to what you'd call a "tomboy", the femininity of this room and this situation was quite overbearing. I'd definitely be throwing on an episode of some violent American TV show when I got home, as a palette cleanser. Still, I tried to enjoy it. Ms. Penny was very diligent, and very skilled. I gathered that already just by looking at Mrs. Reid's flawlessly made-up face. It must be a daily, twice-daily, business for the both of them. The conversation continued through the brightly-lit vanity mirror, Mrs. Reid stood watching behind her maid, playing with her necklace. "Ms. Penny is competent in all these things now. But the first year was, obviously, the most difficult," said Helen. "I assume because she had to be trained in all this?" "Exactly. I brought a lady in to help her. Mrs. Bernard. She was an older woman who worked in finishing schools her whole life. Mother recommended her to me. Excellent woman, really. Reminded me of myself in many ways. I paid a great deal of money for her services but what Ms. Penny learned from her has been invaluable. And this concerns far more than the main skills of a Ladies" Maid in terms of dressing and doing the hair and makeup of her Lady. I'm talking about etiquette and comportment, that kind of thing. The transformation from the domestic drudge I had at the start, giving me the kind of service you can hire from an agency, to how she behaves today is remarkable. Well worth the money." I got the sense that Mrs. Reid's openness about her relationship with Ms. Penny stemmed in some part from her pride in so fully arranging her transformation from ex-boyfriend to professional Ladies" Maid. She'd spent the money and wanted me and the readers of this magazine to know about it. And, I can't begrudge her anything; the transformation seemed flawless and total. Despite the overbearing femininity, I knew (if I could afford it) that I could get used to this kind of treatment. Mrs. Reid, a bit of a princess as she said herself, now gets to feel like a real princess, waited on hand and foot. As for my new makeup? Well, I'll definitely be stealing some of Ms. Penny's technique if I can find the time. I still had more questions for Mrs. Reid (I mean, who wouldn't). Eventually we swapped places. She sat in the chair while I leant on the arm of an armchair in her dressing room. I wanted to know about her daily routine. Was this the kind of treatment she got on a regular basis? Or was it just for show, for when a journalist turns up at her door? "This is quite normal," she said. "This room gets used an awful lot and I'm glad I put it in and got it all done up. What tends to happen, in fact what always happens, is that Ms. Penny wakes up before me to get my clothes ready for the day. Routine helps me keep on the straight and narrow now I'm doing less hands-on work with my companies, so I expect Ms. Penny to get up at about 6am, which is probably the time most domestic staff or cleaning ladies get up in this city. She has time then to dress and make sure her hair and makeup are satisfactory before seeing to me. She knows my schedule well enough; so she knows whether I'll be wanting a business suit or a more informal dress if I'm not expecting to attend any meetings or social occasions that day. I expect things to be ironed and freshly washed; Mrs. Bernard was rigorous in educating Ms. Penny about the ins-and-outs of laundering Ladies" things, especially delicate underwear and high-fashion. Shoes polished too; that irritated me to no end at first when it wasn't being done consistently." "And, so what if it wasn't?" I asked. I felt I was on the verge of unravelling another layer to this "play" between the two of them. Amanda and John's story seemed so distant at that point, faced with the reality of Ms. Penny's situation, but I still knew that doling out punishments was a typical element of a sissy or femdom fetish-game. But then, how much of this was a game? "What do you mean?" Helen responded. "I mean, If they weren't polished, what did you do or say to her?" Mrs. Reid smiled, a touch mischievously. "Ms. Rose, I've read your work for the magazine and on your blogs, and I know the kind of things you've covered before. But I hope you see by now that this isn't really like that. You're probably expecting I put the naughty girl over my knee and gave her a good smack on her bottom like a strict schoolmistress. Leather boots, perhaps," she said, smirking. "I'll tell you what really happened, though. There was no spanking. She would have probably enjoyed going over my knee. No, I wanted to see her scared so that she'd perform adequately. So, if you can imagine the scene, it was maybe the third or fourth time I was dressed in unpolished shoes in two months, and these were a pair of my good Prada pumps, black patent leather ones. Well, I was upset as you might imagine and we agreed, me and Ms. Penny, that she'd spend some time as a hotel maid as a punishment. Mrs. Bernard knew all sorts of agencies, dealing mostly with recent immigrants doing chain hotel work in and around the city. It wasn't difficult to find a position for Ms. Penny for a month, which she duly did. The only condition was that she'd get a good reference from her employer at the end of the month or we'd move her onto another of these hotel maid contracts." "And you didn't mind going without her?" "Oh it mattered little to me. It was convenient actually, since I took a summer break abroad with my husband at the same time. The money she brought in from the contract I used to cover the cost of a little luxury spa weekend, which was nice. And the whole ordeal seems to have worked; Ms. Penny is very reliable now when it comes to looking after my shoes." Eventually, we returned to the sitting room where we first started talking. Ms. Penny was standing at attention, hands in her lap. I was asking about Ms. Penny's future, although Mrs. Reid had to think for a while before answering me. "That's less certain than I would hope," she said. "How so?" "Well, my husband, you've probably guessed, isn't in the country. My daughter's with him in France. Once I've tied up some loose-ends here or if I decide to sell my businesses in this country, there's nothing stopping me retiring over there. The question is whether I want Ms. Penny to join us. She's been so good for the past half decade, it would be hard to adjust without her, but my husband doesn't like seeing her, knowing her history. Rachel would find it a little uncomfortable too." "Having her ex-boyfriend looking after her Mother?" "Or even just in her day-to-day life. No. Chances are Ms. Penny will have to find a home somewhere else. Perhaps with my sister or my Mother. Both of them would get good use out of her. Another possibility is that she goes to a friend of a friend of mine who, I'm told, has a vacancy for a full-time maid in her hotel. At the end of the day there are options on the table. I know she'd rather carry on here with me, but the likelihood of that may dwindle. I'm afraid to imagine what was running through Ms. Penny's head as Helen spoke about her future. Looking at the disparity between the two of them, I realised at the time, leaves one with the conclusion that Mrs. Reid styled her maid to be as different from her as possible. It was intended, the fact that I knew instantly that the woman at the door was not the woman I spoke to on the phone. And not just because of the apron. Ms. Penny had a woman's haircut, no doubt about it, but it was a rather simple shoulder length affair. She wore very basic jewelry; and now she was in that traditional-looking maid's dress. It is as if her appearance was designed by Mrs. Reid to emphasise her own superiority. She was a woman who was economically free, she was an individual with her own tastes. Expensive tastes, certainly. Sending Ms. Penny to work in a hotel as punishment must have satisfied some deep desire of hers to differentiate herself, to control some subordinate. And by the sounds of it, with the chance of Ms. Penny going back to hotel work in future, it looks like Mrs. Reid controls that part of her destiny too. It must have given Helen some feeling of "frisson", a thrill. Perhaps there was a sexual aspect to this, or maybe I'm overthinking things; who knows. But even though Mrs. Reid portrays her relationship to Ms. Penny as one of convenience, the satisfaction of some material need for a Ladies' Maid at her beck-and-call, I can't help link her "ownership" of this woman to a sexual or psychological need. It's the same for a lot of powerful, controlling women I think. Frustrated by some limitation (perhaps linked to her stepping back from her business- life), she obviously sought an expression of her dominant nature in the domestic side of her life. In Ms. Penny, her personal, live-in, Ladies' Maid, I think she achieved that goal.