by Mistress Rosemary
Previous chapters here: Chapters 1&2, Chapter 3
Dennis's New Life
Upon leaving the solicitor’s office in Exeter, Aunt Agatha immediately collared Dennis and gave him his instructions:
“Tomorrow you will hand in your notice at your job, ensuring that you only work until the end of this month.
Tomorrow you will inform your landlord that you will be vacating the property on the last day of this month.
On the first of next month at 9 am sharp you will present yourself to me at Fairbourne Hall with all your clothing and portable possessions.”
“Punctuality is expected and demanded…or else, young lady!”
And with those instructions ringing in his ear, Dennis wandered back to his car in a daze.
Was this all real or was it a nightmare from which he would awake?
Could Grandpa Rolly have been so hard on me after all that I did for him?
Will I really be under the control and clutches of that old hag Agatha?
But the temptation of receiving ten million pounds after five years convinced him that maybe, just maybe, it would be well worth putting up with Aunt Agatha and her bad moods. Perhaps she wasn’t all that bad after all; they’d get to know each other, and time would fly by. He’d twist her around his little finger easily.
Dennis was in a daydream and almost ran a red light on his way back to Tina’s Salon. Screeching to a halt, the car driver behind him rolled down his window and yelled “Where did you learn to drive, you fucking idiot!”
He made up a lame excuse to Tina, explaining that his Aunt Georgina in Canada was gravely ill and that he had to go and take care of her. She wasn’t happy and told him in no uncertain terms that he was being very inconsiderate by giving her such short notice. He packed up his combs, brushes and black apron, docilely leaving without even saying farewell to the other girls. He was crestfallen.
His landlord was more levelheaded, simply stating that by foreclosing the contract, Dennis would lose his three month’s deposit as laid out in the rental agreement.
On the first of the month Dennis arose at 5 am, showered and decided that it would be prudent to wear men’s underclothes and outer garments on this special day, then he loaded up several suitcases and cardboard boxes of belongings and at 6 am set out for Fairbourne Hall, full of foreboding.
Firstly, he ran into road works and sat at a standstill fuming for 25 minutes before crawling along the only open lane behind a heavy equipment truck. Finally, the truck driver stopped, climbed down from the cab and went off to ask the foreman where he should leave his load. Drivers were angrily blasting their horns and seething with pent up fury.
At last, the truck lumbered off the road but owing to the lost time Dennis now ran into the early morning rush hour traffic. He kept looking nervously at his watch as time slipped by; he had calculated to be at Little Shipton with half an hour to spare but now he realized that he’d probably be late. He began to sweat; this was an ill omen for his new life.
“You’re ten minutes late! I demanded punctuality from you and then you arrive late!” she screamed. Aunt Agatha was furious. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
It wasn’t so much of a question as a statement.
“But Auntie, I ran into…”
“Silence!” She bellowed, “from this moment on you will ask permission to speak. Is that clear?”
“Yes Auntie, Sorry Auntie.” he whimpered. This was not going at all the way he’d imagined. She was a monster when she was angry. Best agree with her and not answer back.
“Follow me” she ordered and stalked off along a dark corridor until she arrived at the back door to the mansion. Pointing to a low wooden door next to the rear entrance, she stated “This’ll be your room. Go and get your things and be quick about it; leave them in this room. There’s a lot to do today and now your tardiness has made us late. Meet me at the front door in fifteen minutes, and don’t be late!”
It took Dennis three trips to and from his car, loaded with suitcases and boxes, until they were all stacked up outside his new room. He noticed that both Lizzy and Clive were idly watching him struggle in with the boxes and cases. He thought it strange that they didn’t run to help him. Perhaps they were busy.
Back in the late 19th century this had been the Box Room – a small windowless room that was used to store steamer trunks, cabin baggage, Gladstone bags, carpet bags, portmanteaux and suitcases that were used by Rolly’s grandparents when they travelled all over the world on grand steam liners. Rolly’s grandparents, Sir Charles & Lady Juliette St John Peters, had both drowned on the ill-fated maiden voyage of The Titanic in 1912. Their bodies had been recovered from the frigid waters and were shipped back to Little Shipton to be buried in the family plot at St Michaels.
Opening the door, he saw that the room was lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling. A narrow camp bed took up almost half of the room, and on top of the bed someone had thoughtfully left him some grey sheets, a lumpy old pillow, and some musty blankets. To one side a chipped hand basin and an old-fashioned wind-up alarm clock sat on a small rickety table; a chamber pot peeped out from under the bed. Someone had fixed up a string from corner to corner of the room above the bed and left some old wire coat hangers hanging from it. Dennis supposed that he would have to store his coats and trousers on it. It wasn’t at all like the Blue Room.
“Give Clive your car keys; you won’t be needing your car and he can use it to run errands and go for longer runs; that way we’ll save wear and tear of the Range Rover.” Clive was going to drive the Mini Cooper. Agatha sat in the front passenger seat and Dennis was told to sit in the back. Both Clive and Agatha adjusted their seats into the extreme backwards position, squeezing Dennis’s legs uncomfortably.
Clive revved the engine hard and set off with a screech of tyres, and both he and Agatha lowered their windows completely, causing a continual blast of cold wind to blow into Dennis’s face.
Arriving to Exeter, Clive dropped Agatha and Dennis off at the Guildhall Shopping Centre, and Dennis trailed along behind Agatha as she looked for the Ann Summers lady’s underwear shop. Aunt strode straight in boldly while Dennis entered bashfully. There were several women customers in the shop, inspecting the pretty bras, garter belts and nightwear.
“Miss, can you help us here?” she asked in a demanding manner, “This young man needs to be fitted for a brassiere.” Several heads immediately swiveled to observe Dennis, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Yes, of course, Madam. My name is Cherie and I’d love to help him.” Then addressing Dennis directly, she asked in a clear voice “What sort of brassiere are you looking for, Sir?”
“To start with he wants a couple of simple bras for every day, White.” Aunt broke in.
Dennis was shown into the only changing room there was, and Cherie entered with him, drawing the curtain behind her. The curtain rail was sticky, and the curtain left a gap at one side. He was instructed to take off his shirt and Cherie measured his band size, stating in a clear voice that all the customers could hear “Your band size is 34, and you are a slim build so I would suggest a 34 B cup. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
She returned with a couple of bras and entered. “Here try these on for size. They are Playtex; I think you’ll find them comfy.” Dennis slid his arms through the shoulder straps, and Cherie helped him do up the clips, adding cheerily “These clips take a bit of getting used to, but you’ll soon get the hang of it. Now, how does that feel? She adjusted the shoulder straps and stood back to admire her work.
The customers agreed that it fitted well, and one volunteered helpfully “Maybe she’d like something sexier as well.” Another customer agreed with her. “Yes, and some lacy panties as well.”
Dennis’s face was bright red, and he hung his head in shame, hoping that the ground would open and swallow him up.
Agatha did some real damage to her credit card in that shop: they bought three white Playtex bras, six plain white cotton briefs, six pair of thigh-highs, a blue half cup bra with matching panties, two garter belts and several pair of white stockings, three pair of tights – nude, black and white, two baby doll nighties and then for an unexpected treat she bought Dennis a short black maid’s uniform with a little white apron and a cute cap.
“Yes Aunt, they’re lovely, thank you very much.”
Sporadic clapping broke out among the women customers, and they agreed that the “young lady” was very well mannered. Dennis’s heart was beating fast, the veins in his neck were standing out and a few tears trickled down his cheek.
Cherie tactfully dried his tears with a tissue and told him not to worry.
Aunt instructed Dennis to thank Cherie and he dutifully said “Thank you very much, Cherie. You have been a great help.”
“Thank you dear, I hope you’ll return another day. You will, won’t you?”
Aunt elbowed Dennis sharply in the ribs, and he said “Yes, I will, Cherie. It’s been lovely. These underthings are so pretty and comfortable, I can’t wait to get home and wear them.”
Next, Aunt took Dennis to a large shoe store, and they selected a pair of strappy black low-heeled pumps and a pair of beige platform-heeled pumps (see photo above). Aunt wanted to buy Dennis a pair of black Mary Jane shoes, but he told her that he already had a nice pair.
“Come on, don’t dawdle; there’re still things to do,” Aunt Agatha snapped as they walked along to Just Waxing UK. Aunt opened the door brusquely, entered with Dennis trailing behind, and demanded service. Dennis stood meekly, dreading what he knew was going to happen next.
“This young man needs waxing all over – chest, arms, legs, buttocks, everything” Aunt instructed offensively to the young girl assistant.
“Certainly madam, we can do all that, but we would suggest performing it in two or three sessions so as to ease any discomfort – it can be a little painful sometimes. Why don’t we schedule three appointments?” she offered helpfully.
“Stuff and nonsense, young lady! He needs everything done today…now.” Then turning to Dennis, she said “You don’t mind a bit of pain do you, dear?” It was a rhetorical question and Dennis decided to agree and so avoid Aunt’s anger.
“No, of course not; that’ll be fine, Aunt. I’d like everything done now.” His stomach was churning at the thought of it, but he was beginning to learn that nothing could stop Aunt once she’d made up her mind. “Yes, that’d be lovely. Everything done at once.” He rejoined with resignation in his voice.
“Very well,” replied Doreen (she was wearing a little name badge), “Please come this way Sir.” Leaving Agatha in the front lobby, she ushered Dennis into a curtained off cubicle that had a high bench type bed and at one side a white table with various pots and spatulas. “Please remove all your clothing, including your underwear, and lay face down on the bench.” This was getting very personal, thought Dennis as Doreen disappeared.
“Good” said Doreen when she returned, “let’s begin with your back and buttocks, shall we?” placing a cold hand on his bum cheek as she began the process. Dennis closed his eyes and decided to grin and bear it. He’d never in his life imagined that he’d have to suffer the humiliation of this.
After that side was done, Doreen instructed him to turn over. Awkwardly he shifted his body over, nervously covering his pubic area with his hands. “Don’t be shy; I’ve seen all those parts many times,” Doreen chirped with a sly grin on her face, “let’s see what you’ve got down there” she joked.
Dennis decided that there was no escape, so he slowly let his hands slip down to his sides. “Oh. Nothing to write home about, eh!” she quipped. But don’t worry about it; you know what they say, “it’s not the size, it’s what you do with it that counts!” …ha ha ha.” Dennis had always believed that his manhood was a normal size but suddenly this young girl had burst his balloon.
“Sorry to disillusion you, Sir, but you should just see the size of my boyfriend! He’s enormous! Ha ha ha. She couldn’t contain her laughter.
The final step was when Doreen said” You’re going to enjoy this!” as she poured a generous amount of soothing lotion over his upturned body, and proceeded to spread it all over his chest, stomach, and legs. It felt like magic to Dennis, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his girlfriend Jane who he’d left behind in his previous life, her breasts, her rounded backside, her delicious vagina – but that life had suddenly ceased to exist just a few days ago.
The calm slow massaging over his now smooth body excited him and he felt his organ beginning to respond. He tried to cover his erection but couldn’t. Doreen squealed and stepped back in shock. Aunt Agatha heard the agitated noise and ran in, drawing back the curtain just in time to see Dennis’s modest but swollen member.
Doreen was sobbing and ran off to the lady’s toilet. The manageress came in and declared in a stern voice “This session is finished. Please get dressed and leave. Never in all my years of professional experience have I seen such a disgusting lack of respect for my assistants.”
Aunt paid and they left in silence.
It was now early afternoon and Aunt called Clive on her cell phone, and he came and picked them up. On the journey back to Little Shipton, Agatha told Clive about all lovely bras and things that they had bought for Dennis, pulling them out of the bag one by one and holding them up for Clive to admire. He agreed that they were lovely, and that Dennis should be very grateful. Agatha pointedly ignored Dennis.
Arriving back at Fairbourne Hall, Aunt immediately instructed Dennis to go to his room and put on his new underclothes, shoes, maid’s uniform and cap. He was instructed to let his hair down. “Meet me in the main entrance hall in 15 minutes sharp.” she ordered.
He did as he was told, and sheepishly returned in the black and white uniform, white stockings, and black Mary Janes. Underneath, she wore her new garter belt and lacy panties. She’d thought it wise to use her own silicone breast inserts to give her uniform a pleasing shape. She was trembling all over.
Aunt Agatha had assembled Fred & Flo, Lizzy and Clive in the entrance hall.
The gathered employees stared in amazement as she arrived. She’d often worn women’s underclothes in private and had enjoyed it, but this was different – now she was open to other people’s gaze. It was out in the open. She was dressed as a girl in public. Now everyone knew her secret. She blushed and avoided all eye contact, hanging her head in shame. Her bottom lip was quivering.
“As you all know, this person likes to dress and act as a girl,” Agatha stated matter of factly, “she’ll be living here permanently, and she’ll be under my strict control, although I’d welcome any suggestions concerning her duties. From now on she will be called Priscilla Peters, but I expect all of you to call her simply Peters. They all nodded in agreement but couldn’t take their eyes off the maid.
Turning to Priscilla, she instructed:
“You will address the gardener as Master Frederick, and his wife as Mistress Florence; Lizzy you will now be Head Maid and Peters will report to you for the everyday running of the Hall. Peters, you will address the Head Maid as Mistress Elizabeth, and the driver as Master Clive. You will address me as Madam Agatha.
“Peters, except for when you greet your betters, you will not on any account speak unless spoken to; when you encounter anybody at all in the mansion, you will immediately stand with your back to the wall, head inclined, extend your dress in both hands and curtsy respectfully as they walk by. When you enter or leave any room you will curtsy to anybody in that room.
“Peters, you will now be responsible for washing and ironing the clothes of all members here present. You will clean all bathrooms and toilets every day. You will clean the kitchen every week. You will wash up all the dirty plates and dishes, pots and pans every day. All rooms, halls, and corridors to be vacuumed every day. All furniture, wooden floors and wainscotting to be polished monthly. You will bring me my breakfast in bed every morning at 8 am sharp. You will eat your meals in the kitchen. Your hours of work will be from 6 am until you finish your allotted chores. You will be allowed a half day off every Sunday afternoon provided that no complaints have been brought against you during the week.
“You will report to Mistress Elizabeth every day at 6 am in the servants’ kitchen, where she will set out your chores for the day.
“You will be given a weekly allowance of five pounds, but all breakages will be deducted from that generous sum.
Is that clear, Peters?”
“Yes, Madam Agatha.”
Fred held up his hand to speak. “Yes, Fred, d’you have a question?” Agatha queried.
“Yes M’am; I have a lot of work in the garden and I’m not so young as I used to be. Could Peters help me…maybe cutting the lawns. It’s a bit heavy going for me these days.”
“An excellent idea, Fred.
Peters, you’ll report to Master Frederick every Wednesday at 9 am after washing up the breakfast things and do as he instructs.” Turning to Fred she said, “She won’t want to dirty her maid’s uniform in the garden; do you have any old clothes that you could lend her?”
“Yes, of course, M’am. That’ll be no problem.”
“Now, I must inform everyone of a shocking event that occurred this morning in Exeter.” declared Aunt Agatha.
She had a menacing look on her face, and under her arm she had a long flexible bamboo cane. Dennis eyed the cane nervously, fully expecting what was going to happen. “Peters sexually assaulted a young lady in the waxing salon.”
Everyone gasped in horror.
Dennis protested “But it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help it.”
“Silence! Peters. Your actions were offensive and completely inappropriate, and you caused great distress to a lovely young lady. You will now experience a taste of my wrath!
“Fred, please bring that chair over here.” He dutifully pulled over a tall-backed, brocade upholstered, walnut chair (19th century French) and placed it the middle of the hall.
“Peters, bend over, drop your knickers and hold your dress up.” Aunt made some aggressive air swipes with the cane. Priscila trembled in fear, but seeing that she was emotionally and physically outnumbered, she obeyed, pulling down her panties so that all could see her newly waxed bum.
“This here is called The Tickler” she chuckled, as she made another air strike.
SWISH. The cane slashed through the air landing on Priscilla’s baby-like buttocks. She yelped in pain. It hurt like hell.
SWISH. Aaaaagh! She had never ever experienced such a humiliating punishment.
SWISH. Eeeeee! She squealed like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
SWISH Aaaaagh! “No, Mistress. Please please stop.”
“Now you’ll get three more stripes for talking without permission, Peters! Now repeat after me – I”
“I” SWISH. Yelp.
“Will” SWISH. Scream.
“Not” SWISH. Louder scream.
“Assault” SWISH. A loud sob. Priscilla was crying pitifully.
“Young” SWISH. Continuous convulsive sobbing.
“Girls” SWISH. “Aaaagh, no…please stop Madam.” She was begging.
“Ever” SWISH. “Aaaaagh aaagh…no Madam, no Madam, no”
“Again” SWISH. Uncontrollably sobbing”
Priscilla had never felt such public humiliation. The pain was excruciating, and she couldn’t control her bodily functions…with a pitiful sob she groaned “Oh no no no no …” and she peed all over the floor.
“Pull up your knickers you disgusting young thing, you; go and get changed then mop up this floor at once.”
“Everyone is dismissed”.
Fred walked off, his hands covering the bulge in his trousers.
Priscilla hurried off sobbing inconsolably; her bum hurt like the blazes but worse still her pride had been severely damaged. She had been publicly humiliated, seen for what she really was: a wimp who liked to dress up in a maid’s uniform and be punished by a strong woman. Her self esteem was at low ebb, and she felt wretched and unloved.
Returning to her little room, she stripped off her urine-soaked panties and stockings, then barefoot she sloped along to the scullery and rinsed them out. Back in her room she hung the wet things on the line above her head, carefully slipped out of her uniform and hung it on a hanger over her bed.
Taking out her compact she screwed her neck around to see the damage to her rump – it was striped with raw welts and the skin was broken in several places.
Clad only in her bra and garter belt she threw herself face down on the bed and cried bitterly. She sobbed and wailed - profoundly hurt feelings surged up from within her and took control of her whole body. She hated Aunt Agatha with her whole heart but knew deep down that she had to accept the ill usage, the insults, the humiliation and now the corporal punishment if she was ever going to receive her ten million pounds.
She was trapped: flee and live from hand to mouth or buckle under for five years and then live a life of luxury.
Maybe it wasn’t going to be so easy to twist Aunt Agatha around her little finger after all.
She didn’t know who she hated most: Aunt Agatha or Grandpa Rolly. The former was the instrument of her torture, but the latter was the instigator of her predicament.
Her backside throbbed like the very Devil but gradually she stopped sobbing and drifted off into a fitful sleep, dreaming of bloody murderers, and screaming maniacs chasing her with long sabers but her legs wouldn’t work. She awoke in a sweat, her heart throbbing.
Turning on the light, she sat there pondering her dilemma and decided that she would have to obey. What a horrible thought, having to obey Aunt Agatha, but to accept her former servants as her masters, bending her knee to them, sucking up to them, debasing herself before them – that was going to be the worst part.
Her cell phone battery had died but there was nowhere to recharge it, so she wound the alarm clock and set it for 5:30 am. She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since breakfast but now that seemed like another lifetime, another world.
It was the least of her worries.
Chapter 5