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Custom Maid (Collector of Rarities x Nobodysangel)

Collector of Rarities

Collector of Rarities

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Joined
May 25, 2011
Alexander Marlowe was one of England's premier socialites. His family owned the Empire's largest import company, Marlowe Imports, which imported goods from the Empire's colonies all across the world. As such, the Marlowe family was not only very rich, but could also get away with quite a bit since they had the favor of the crown.

Alexander Marlowe was a tall man, just turned thirty, standing at an even six feet, with raven black hair and green eyes. He was always well-dressed, wearing only custom-tailored clothing, and had set a few new trends in men's clothing. He kept a tidy, well-run house. Like many other privileged men of the Empire, the majority of his servants were young, attractive women. Although the Empress promoted a prudish lifestyle on the surface, but none of the nobility, including Her Majesty, actually practiced it. Having a large pool young ladies to choose from was a luxury that no wealthy man wanted to go without.

Alexander had had problems with one of his maids in particular: his personal maid. Tabitha had been Alexander's personal plaything for a good few years, but she'd decided to steal from him. Alexander hadn't particularly cared about the reason why, but he'd punished her nonetheless; he'd marched her out, stark naked into the center of London and placed her in a stockade for public use. She would remain there until Alexander decided to take mercy on her and let her out which, knowing him, could be quite some time.

As such, he was spending the day touring his female staff. He'd already had his way with a few of them, but he was looking for a more permanent plaything. He'd already inspected half of the staff and, while he was pleased with them, he wanted to examine each of them before making his choice.
 
The life of a maid in a wealthy noble house wasn't by any means a bad one. Other women of such station had much worse lives, as prostitutes or servants to wicked, cruel men who enjoyed inflicting pain more than anything else. This house was, thankfully, not like that. Some girls, Tabitha in particular, one of the upper house maids and personal attendant of Master Alexander, had attracted the notice of the master of the house, but in this respect, Mairead was lucky. she worked as a lower maid, so she tended to the unused rooms, ensuring that they were always kept neat and tidy, ready to be used at a moment's notice should her Master have guests.

She had worked hard, been quiet and respectful, drawn no attention to herself in the least. There were other, more exotic girls to suit her Master's tastes, and she herself had been fortunate enough to go unseen and thus unnoticed. It had been whispered of course that her employer had a bit of a penchant for patting bottoms and flipping skirts, but Mairead had no illusions that a plain little sparrow such as her would have been the sort to be noticed in such a way, and furthermore it was the utmost in common low behavior to speculate on the activities of ones betters, and she lectured the little gossips about the maids who had been put out due to being unable to stop being gossipy busybody rumor mills.

However, today was a new day, with new chores to be done. It was frequent enough that the master would have business associates over or parties at the house that she always made sure to keep the lower rooms in impeccable order. At the moment, she was busy folding linens and placing them in the downstairs closet, a basket by hers side to go and strip the current linens and hang fresh drapes and tablecloths and sheets for the guest rooms and such. The master of the house rarely came down here during the day, his work keeping him quite busy and only parties and gala events bringing him down to this section of the house, and by that time, she was usually long gone. More bubbly, beautiful, vivacious women were the servers at such events, and to be entirely honest, Mairead doubted that he would notice her even if he did see her, having never found herself to be very special. The other maids had said that he was scouting through the housemaids to find a new pet to replace Tabitha, who had been caught stealing and had been very publicly punished in the stockades (and still there if she wasn't mistaken), but it wasn't as if it was a position she'd be chosen for.

Mairead wasn't unattractive; she was simply not anywhere near as exotic as the colonial girls who had been brought in for the pleasure of the gentlemen of the gentry. A quiet, no-nonsense young Irish girl, she had the long, thick dark brown hair, pale rosy skin and brilliant green eyes of her homeland, but living in England since she was old enough to walk had made her very much an Englishwoman. Softly rounded and blessed with a trim, lushly curved figure which she hid very well under an ankle length, high necked black shapeless dress and starched white apron and cap, but her face, while delicately boned and lovely, was more of a quiet prettiness than the exotic coloring and features of the other maids. And she quite liked it that way. At twenty six years old, she'd spent the last fourteen years in this house, first as a scullery maid in the kitchens, then working her way up to a lower house maid. She'd worked hard to get where she was and it was on her own merit alone, and not how well she spread her thighs for her employer.

Washing and dusting, polishing and laundering, baking and mending and sewing, It was a quiet, sometimes dull existence, but dull wasn’t so bad when compared to how much worse it could be. It seemed only fitting that Mairead Aislinn Shaunessy would live out her professional life as she lived her personal life; quiet, hard working and unnoticed, floating through her days and nights with the quiet, unflappable pride of a young woman who knew her place in the world and was content with it.
 
At just before four in the afternoon, Mairead was found by Wilson, Alexander's manservant. Wilson was one of the few permanent male staff in the Marlowe manor. Besides Wilson, there were a few male gardeners and the head chef was also a man, but otherwise it was all women. Wilson in particular was a bit of an enigma. For one thing, no one knew his first name: he was only ever referred to as Wilson. Secondly, he seemed to be perpetually fifty, even though some of the other serving girls swore that he was older than that. In fact, there was a family photograph from twenty years ago that included him and in it he looked exactly the same as he did today.

Wilson stood at 5'8". His head was entirely bald, save for his snowy eyebrows, but oddly devoid of wrinkles. As a matter of fact, Wilson had aged rather well and had quite a bit of muscle beneath his uniform, but it rarely showed since he hardly ever took it off. He always carried himself well, as a manservant should, with impeccable posture and with a crisp fluidity to his movements. His gray eyes locked onto Mairead as he entered the room. "You will be delivering the master his tea today," he said, his voice deep and a little raspy. "Normally one of the other girls would do it, but it is your turn to be inspected and it also happens to be teatime, so we will be killing two birds with one stone. Report to the kitchen at once to receive the tea tray and take it to the master in the tearoom."
 
She looked up, surprised that Wilson would be down here in the empty guest quarters. He frightened her a little, which was a source of great embarrassment to her. Like one of those silly little junior maids, being afraid of his stern expression and strange gray eyes. She curtsyed immediately, bowing her head and waiting to be addressed. However, the instructions he gave her made her more than a little unnerved. She was to be inspected? She was surprised anyone even remembered that she worked for the household sometimes. She bit her lip as he instructed her to report to the kitchen and take the master his tea. She didn't wish to be noticed. It was the last sort of work that she wished to do. There were quite a few of the girls who found it most enjoyable to grant their favors to the master in such a way; why did she have to do so as well? Well, that was the entirely wrong attitude, she supposed. It was her duty to serve however she was needed, no matter what her personal feelings on the matter.

She bowed her head in acknowledgement of his instructions and hurried to the kitchens, where a tray was already prepared and waiting for her. As one of the lower housemaids, she didn't wear the more flirty (or scandalous, depending on one's opinion) uniforms of the upper housemaids who encountered the master often. So she looked rather more out of place as she carried the heavy silver tray up to the tearoom that the master tended to use more frequently. She tapped at the door carefully, waiting to be instructed to enter, and carried the tray inside, her eyes lowered respectfully. "Your tea, Master Marlowe." she said softly, removing the lids from the tray, showing small tea sandwiches, a basket of sweet vanilla and cream biscuits and a bowl of sliced fruit with clotted cream. Once she had uncovered the tray, she stepped back, curtsying politely. "Will there be anything else, Master Marlowe?" She asked politely, her hands folded in front of her and hoping that he would take a quick look at her, find her unacceptable to his needs and send her back to her chores on the lower floor.
 
Alexander was wearing a white shirt, over which he'd wear a double-breasted coat if he was going out, a pair of black trousers and a pair of black leather shoes. He sat comfortably in his chair reading the paper when Mairead entered. He folded it neatly and set it aside when she set the tea tray down and looked up at her with a puzzled expression on his face when he saw her face.

"Now who are you?" he asked, his tone genuinely curious. His voice was deep and cultured, casually enunciating each word as he spoke. "I haven't seen you around the manor before." He stood and began pacing around her, examining her from every angle. He'd spent so much time among the more exotic maids that he was surprised to learn that he had a local girl in his employ. After making to complete circles around her, Mairead's question finally seemed to reach his ears. "Hmm?" he asked, suddenly remembering that she'd spoken. "Oh, yes! There is something you can do for me." He settled back into his chair and rested one ankle on his knee, forming a right angle with his legs. "You can strip for me. You may leave on your shoes and socks, but the rest has to go for now."
 
She bowed her head as he looked at her with a puzzled expression, feeling a small flicker of dismay. She'd been working here for fourteen years, ever since she was twelve years old. Still, she'd always worked in very out of the way, unpopular places so it was to be expected. "My name is Mairead, Master Marlowe, should it please you." She said softly, raising her head and standing very straight as he paced around her, examining her much more closely than she'd ever been stared at before. She felt warm pinkness spreading through her cheeks as he sat back down, her eyes going wide as he instructed her to strip. She closed her eyes and calmed herself forcibly; she had expected this, he was inspecting the maids for a new attendant after all. "As you wish, Master Marlowe." she said softly, untying her apron and folding it carefully, laying it aside. Next was her cap, unpinning it and untwisting her hair from the severe knot she usually wore it in for the sake of efficiency, shaking long, thick chocolate brown waves and curls down her back, all the way past her hips to the tops of her thighs. The dress she wore was next, a severe thing, tiny buttons lining the front from the top of the high neck to the hem of her dress and so she unbuttoned only as many as she needed to slide it down her body and stepping out of it, folding it up as well. This left her bare breasted, and she was surprisingly lush in figure.

Her waist was small and slender, but her breasts and hips were full and soft, her breasts heavy and tipped with rosy, dark pink nipples, hardening from the slightly cool air. They were large enough to fill a man's hand and spill over, and her bottom likewise presented the same soft, generous shape, heart-shaped and pert, leading into surprisingly long legs encased in very sensible black stockings and shoes. She hesitated a moment before lowering the demure panties she wore, but eventually they slipped down her thighs and were laid aside as well, exposing a soft little mound, devoid of hair as was the custom for any maid serving in a noble house. Always clean and tidy, no matter the position, it was an unwritten rule for servants in such houses. When she was naked save for her stockings and shoes, she folded her hands carefully over her stomach, her head bowed respectfully, feeling rather strange to be in this position. She waited quietly for him to tell her to get dressed once more, hoping she could have a few moments to compose herself before he dismissed her to her prior tasks.
 
Alexander considered her for an uncomfortably long time. He starred at her intently, dozens of thoughts whirling around in his emerald eyes. After a few minutes, he stood up, walked around her once more, then sat back down again, this time resting his elbows on the armrests of the chair and lacing his fingers together. He leaned forward, placed his mouth behind his hands and continued scrutinizing Mairead for a while longer.

"I was unaware that I had any Imperial girls in my employ," he said. His statement wasn't accusatory, just surprised. "You are Imperial, aren't you?" he waited for her response before continuing, although now he was speaking mostly to himself. "Well, there's and idea. Could be a new trend, really; make Imperial girls all the rage. Showcase the beauty of the Empire and all that." He looked up, surprised to see that Mairead was still there, and motioned her away. "You may leave. Take your clothes with you. But be ready in case Wilson comes to find you again. I may have further need of your services." With that, he set about enjoying his tea and completely ignoring Mairead.
 
She felt terribly exposed, humiliated and it was only by sheer force of will that she didn't scramble for her clothes as his gaze moved over her. He stood, walking around her, inspecting her as if she were a mare at auction. With the intense and impersonal scrutiny that he examined her with, she half expected him to check her teeth. When he sat back down she waited, hoping that he would give her permission to dress herself once more, would dismiss her, deem her too plain or too common for him to make such use of her. When he asked her about her origins, she bowed her head. "Yes, Master Marlowe. Born in Ireland but raised here. I have been in your employ for fourteen years now." She said softly, waiting for his permission to dress and leave. It came, after an absentminded conversation with himself concerning the possibility of making Imperial girls fashionable now. What a silly idea. Imperial girls were everywhere in the Empire; may as well put sparrows in zoos and raise them as exotic birds!

She curtseyed quickly and gathered up her clothes, murmuring a soft thanks to him and stepping outside of the door, taking the moment out there to pull on her dress and button it back up, twist her hair up under her cap once more and rearrange her apron over herself carefully. She was not at all cut out to be an upper house maid. She hurried back to her linen closet on the lower floor as if the Devil himself were on her heels. Such embarrassing tasks, to undress in front of a man and be inspected like livestock at a fair! Why would girls actively seek out such tasks? Her work might be hard and dull and thankless, but she far preferred folding linens and changing sheets and doing laundry to whatever was in store for the maid that caught his eye. A sensible girl kept herself out of the eyesight of the nobility, did her work diligently and didn't seek any special treatment or favors. And if nothing else, Mairead was a very sensible girl.
 
The inspections carried on for another two days. Alexander had a rather large house with quite a few maids in it, but he also had business to attend to, as well as social obligations. Once he'd seen each maid, he made a small list of the ones he was most interested in. Mairead made the list, although that was more because Alexander was currently competing with another socialite, Lewis Darrow, and wanted to show him up by starting a new trend than anything else. Not many people had the influence to consistently start trends, and those without the influence only did so if they were charismatic enough not to let someone else steal credit for their ideas, but Alexander Marlowe was certainly influential enough. If he made a statement with his choice of maid, others would listen, but only if he could make her eye-catching. It was for this reason that he eventually settled on Mairead; he'd have some work to do with her, but he would be lying if he said that he didn't relish a challenge.

It was on Sunday, just after prayer, that Wilson found Mairead again. He pulled her aside after the staff filed out of the ballroom, where a priest came to lead prayer each Sunday. Of course, the servants had to move the pews and pulpit into the ballroom before prayer started and back out again once it finished, but this was the way Alexander had decided to run his house; while the servants prayed at home, he went to church, passing Tabitha without a second glance along the way, with the rest of society. It was during the process of moving the pews back out of the ballroom that Wilson pulled Mairead aside.

"The master has selected you to be his new personal servant," he said, his tone brusque and businesslike. "Remove all clothing at once and report to his room. You will be kneeling at the foot of his bed when he returns from church. You will receive your new uniform once he's picked one out for you."
 
Mairead had always enjoyed going to prayer. Even as a little girl it had helped her focus and calm, and with all of the upheval over the past few days, everyone in the house needed it. She'd heard nothing more about the inspection or whether or not she'd been chosen for such service, and the dismissive way that he'd reacted when she undressed made her feel that much safer. So naturally when Wilson pulled her aside after prayer services, she was needless to say quite shocked that she had been chosen as the master's personal attendant. Briefly she wanted to protest, having no desire to find herself in such a position as Tabitha was currently in, but arguing with the decision of the master of the house was utterly unheard of. She would have to perform her new duties to the best of her ability and hope that the master became bored of her quickly and went back to his more exotic flavors.

As she was instructed, she undressed, biting her lip as she made her way through the house without a stitch of clothing on, her hair pinned up and her glasses perched on her nose, making her way to the master's bedroom. He was still at church, and she had no idea how long he would be gone as occasionally he would take lunch with other members of society after the services or other such things. Still, it was her duty, and she was a dutiful young woman if nothing else. Closing her eyes, she knelt down at the foot of his bed, her hands folded primly and her thighs pressed tightly together, her head bowed as she waited for him to return, waiting to see what these new duties entailed.
 
Mairead got a myriad of looks when she walked through the house naked. Some were looks of pity from her fellow lower housemaids, while others were looks of scorn from the upper housemaids who had been vying for this position for years. The head chef seemed to appreciate her body quite a bit, especially since he'd never really taken notice of her before. Already the servants were murmuring among themselves, but no one lifted a finger or stood in her path as she walked up to the master's room.

-----

Alexander decided not to go out to lunch after church, but that didn't mean that he didn't have time to hang back and chat with the other churchgoers and the reverend for a while. The wealthier members of the church would take this time to discuss potential business deals and the less wealthy would petition him to give their sons jobs in his company or their daughters a position in his house. He would turn down these offers politely, but firmly. He did not handle the hiring process personally, focusing his attention instead on investments and other large transactions. He handled the money: he had people to take care of the people.

When he finally returned home, it was two hours later in his personal horse-drawn buggy. Alexander had dressed in his Sunday best: a black top hat with a coat of the same exact color, as well as black trousers and a brand new pair of black leather boots that had been a gift from a friend who owned a tannery. Like all proper gentlemen, he carried a walking stick; his was a lovely dark brown mahogany with a steel tip and a silver head in the shape of a eagle's head. As he walked through the front door, servants materialized and took his hat, coat and cane. He tugged his neckerchief from his throat and handed it off to another servant, not once looking at any of them or breaking stride as he headed for the main staircase. The servants responsible for taking his coat, hat and the like had trained without rest until they were able to see to his needs without slowing him down. Of course, they'd hired someone Alexander's height for the servants to practice on, since Alexander was far too busy to waste hours helping his servants drill.

Alexander strode into his room and frowned when he saw how Mairead was kneeling. "You are to kneel with your legs open," he instructed, producing a thin cane from a cabinet and swatting the insides of her thighs until her knees were an acceptable and rather wide length apart. "Your back will be arched to present your breasts and your head will be held high; we can't have anyone assuming that you're ashamed to be my plaything, now can we?" He spent the next few minutes adjusting Mairead's posture, then had her go back to the way she'd been kneeling before and had her assume the position he'd just taught her on her own to show that she'd learned.
 
The time it took for him to arrive home was nearly long enough for Mairead's stomach to twist itself into knots of worry . She felt singularly foolish and hadn't been so blind as to miss the pitying gazes, the scornful contempt or the thinly veiled interest that her naked walk to the master's chambers had garnered her. She wished the upper house maids, exotic and foreign girls that they were, had been the ones that the master had chosen as his personal attendant. She had no desire for the position and if it wasn't for caring for her mother and her siblings with the rather substantial pay she received for her work, she would have resigned from her position as soon as Wilson came to inform her of her inspection. As it stood, she had eight hungry mouths to feed, and her monthly pay was simply too good to give up, better than she'd get at many an other noble house.

She was lost in thought when the master arrived and she looked up quickly before bowing her head once more. She had always been taught to be respectful of her betters, to keep her eyes lowered, to be demure and polite always. However she hadn't been taught the proper way to kneel apparently, because a thin cane switch snapped at her inner thighs until they were open terribly, shamefully wide, exposing the pink folds of her sex. She gasped at every stripe the cane left on her soft thighs, and when he was finished and she as acceptably spread, her back arched to thrust her breasts forward and her head was raised, he ordered her to return to her original position and then assume the position he desired on her own with no assistance from him. She did so as best she could, her hands resting on her thighs as she raised her breasts, her nipples achingly hard from being bare in the cool room for so long, her head tilted back slightly and her thighs open and completely visible to him. It was a terrifying situation to be in, and she bit her lip to keep from saying something utterly disrespectful to the master of the house.
 
Alexander smiled as his new pet assumed the position all on her own. He replaced the cane in the cabinet, swapping it out for a riding crop which he smacked lightly against his hand. "You are new to this position," he said, gently stroking the crop along the underside of her breast, then flicking it up to cause a little stinging pain in her nipple, turning the little bud a lovely rosy color. "So there is much that you will have to learn. The cane is used for corrections: if you have done something wrong, you will taste the cane while I instruct you on how to do it correctly. The cane is not a punishment, simply a motivator. The crop, on the other hand, is a guide and, if you're particularly good, a small reward. You will feel both pleasure and pain, often simultaneously, from the crop: most of my pets have come to enjoy it."

He placed the crop against her cheek and walked around her to the bed, using the crop to guide her head to keep her eyes on him. As he moved closer to the bed, Mairead was forced to turn around completely to keep facing him. He sat with his legs on either side of Mairead, her head at the level of his crotch. He used the crop to keep her chin tilted up and her eyes locked on his. "You are my personal plaything now," he said. "Your family will be compensated with a larger sum being sent to them each week. You will stay by my side twenty four seven, unless I leave you elsewhere. If you obey me, if you are a good little pet, your life will be easy and pleasant. If you give me a hard time, well: you saw what happened to Tabitha. Now, we're going to spend the next few days making sure that you're obedient. You are my plaything, but I will be showing you off to others. You are an accessory to me: everything about you, from your body to the way that I dress you, is a statement. And if that statement is that I cannot properly control my servants, I will be the laughing stock of London. If that happens, then you will be taking Tabitha's place in the stocks. So, will you be an obedient little pet for me?"
 
The soft stroking of the crop tip along the tender lower curve of her breast made her shift in place, biting her lip as he spoke. And then the crop snapped up, flicking her nipple and making her gasp. Her nipple had already been hard from the cooler air, but the strike made it ache, the light pink color darkening from the strike and aching, a soft throbbing pain left behind once the initial sharp sting faded. She listened intently, determined to not give him any cause for any other strikes, and especially keen to not repeat the caning. She couldn't imagine someone actually coming to enjoy being hit with a riding crop and wondered what manner of unnatural women his pets tended to be. She kept her thoughts to herself though, no matter how strange and impossible it sounded to feel pleasure and pain at the same time. The two were mutually exclusive as far as she knew; she couldn't even imagine a situation where she could feel any pleasure great enough to make pain tolerable.

The crop against her cheek brought her sharply back to reality, and she followed the guidance of the crop to turn and face him, her eyes raised to look up at him as he sat down, bringing her face in line with his lap, a vantage point that made her blush intensely. He kept her chin lifted and her eyes on him though, so she at least didn't have to gaze at that particular area of his body the whole time, especially with her having very vague notions of what her service to him was going to entail. His personal plaything...by his side constantly. She hated the thought that a larger pension being sent to her family made her more kindly inclined towards the man. Not much, mind you, but somewhat. He explained that she would be shown off, would be dressed and presented according to his specifications and that her behavior would reflect on him, for good or ill. The idea of being in front of others in such a capacity... she swallowed hard, closing her eyes a moment before stiffening her spine. She could do this. It would be awful and humiliating and degrading, but she would do this.

"Yes Master Marlowe, I will serve you obediently and to the best of my ability." She said quietly, trying not to sound as nervous and frightened as she actually was. Having seen what became of Tabitha, she was terrified that, even inadvertently, she would do something to earn his ire.
 
Alexander chuckled and lowered the crop, reaching out with his other hand to stroke his fingers through Mairead's hair. "Oh, my sweet, naive girl," he said. "You will be pushed far beyond "the best of your ability". You are to forget everything that you once were: the old Mairead is as good as dead now. Money will still be sent to your family, but they are no longer your concern. You will forget whatever skills you were taught as a maid and you will become an object for my enjoyment. When I am finished with you, your only thoughts will be of me and how you may better serve me. Tabitha was selfish; she thought that, by stealing from me, she could buy her way out of her contract and make a life of her own. It is this selfishness that lead to her current predicament; if you wish to avoid the same pitfalls, you must trust me to take care of all of your needs. I will determine what you wear, if you wear anything at all, I will determine what and when you eat and I will determine where and how you sleep. None of these things are your concern anymore: your only concern is ensuring that I am pleased with you. Allowing your mind to wander away from this goal will only end badly for you. Do you understand?"

It was an almost surreal experience listening to Alexander; his voice was soft and gentle, as was the hand that stroked her hair, but there was no room for dissent in his gaze. No matter how gentle he seemed, his tone ensured that Mairead understood that speaking back was a very bad idea.
 
She swallowed hard as he chuckled, thinking that it was probably not a good sign for her at least, his hand stroking through her hair making her even more nervous. She had to admit a small curl of fear twisting in her stomach as he mentioned that who she was, the skills she was so proud of and that she had worked so hard to attain, were to be forgotten, along with her concern and worry for her family and everything else that she once was. The idea of losing so much of herself terrified her and she wasn't certain how a person who made no secret of his desire to turn her into a helpless, obedient thing fit only for serving him with no other thought in her head could expect a person with any sense of self to trust them. Determining what clothes, if any, she was permitted to wear, her meals, her sleeping arrangements...he did not want a servant, he wanted a pet!

She bowed her head when he asked if she understood and couldn't help but hesitate a second, wondering if he would release her if she asked him to choose another. She doubted it, though. She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't seem to do it. Swallowing hard, she looked up at him once more, confusion and worry evident in her expression. "I...I understand what you wish of me. I...would ask that you permit me to ask you, Master Marlowe; why did you choose me for this place, when you have so many maids who are infinitely more skilled in such matters, and far more pleasing and exotic to the eye than myself... and why do you wish me to change whatever traits that made you wish to have me for this position? It made no sense to her for him to choose so small and plain and ordinary a girl as her, and even less sense that he would have chosen her for some reason and then wish to strip those things that made him choose her away from her entirely. It was, to her at least, like a person buying a plain little workhorse over all of the beautiful Arabian thoroughbreds in a stable, and then wanting to turn her into a silly parody of those very thoroughbreds he rejected.
 
Alexander smiled at her question. "The reason I chose you above the other maids was because," he said, "after some investigation, I discovered that you lack, or at the very least have less of something that was troublesome in my last plaything. Ambition. The other maids that were clamoring for this position all want something out of it; perhaps they are superficial and like the idea of being dressed as decadently as Tabitha was. Perhaps they believe that somehow, through pleasing me, I will decide to marry them and share my wealth. Whatever their reasons, they believe that they can use me to get what they want, and that is not something that I wish from my pet. You did not want this position, so I believe that you are the best suited for it."

He reached down and cupped her face in both of his hands, stroking her cheeks gently with his thumbs. "I see fear and reluctance in your eyes, my dear girl," he said. "Tell me: what is it that concerns you?"
 
she understood his reasoning. She had no interest in fancy clothes or jewelry, and no desire to rise above her station. She was happy...or had been happy...with her position. It was honest, good work and it let her care for her family and ensure that they were taken care of. It was her duty as the eldest sister to do such things for her family, and she'd been sending her money home and visiting on her rare holidays for fourteen years now. She didn't think that she would be allowed to go visit them anymore, what with her duties becoming that much more intensive. No, she did not want this position in the least. She was a good, honest girl. She'd hoped to one day become a housekeeper in a well to do house, marry a nice man and have a family of her own. No honest man would take her as a wife after being used in such a way.

He asked her what she feared, and she hesitated as he stroked her face, surprised at the gentleness that he touched her with. "I...I mean no disrespect, Master Marlowe. But...but after a woman serves in a household i such a manner, she...she is not considered fit for honest work again. She...she has no prospects for marriage, or...or any other position. And when I am no longer of interest to you, I fear that I will be turned out and will be unfit for work as a housemaid after...after being openly your...your pet. I fear being turned into someone that I wouldn't even recognize, and being cast aside when I cannot be the beautiful, exotic women that you have always preferred, and being unable to care for my family or myself." She hoped that she wasn't being disrespectful in any way, but an exotic woman could find a position as a lord or merchant's mistress, or could ply her trade as a courtesan. She had no skills in any such thing, had only her good reputation and her work history to speak for her, and while the master of a house might like the idea of having a woman of such openly loose morals in his employ, it was usually the housekeeper who hired maids, and very few that she had met would tolerate such a woman for a position in their household.
 
"Some Masters are cruel like that," agreed Alexander, "but I believe that hard work should be rewarded. If you perform well for me, I will make sure that you are given another position within my house. As for your fears that no man will want you after your time with me," he chuckled and shook his head. "I think you misunderstand the heart of a man. There are many men who would want a lovely, obedient wife who has demonstrated that she is capable of pleasing him. You'll come to find in your time with me that your view of the world is not as true as it might seem.

"You have the body of a woman, but still think very much like a girl: how much "honest" work do you think goes on in a nobleman's or and aristocrat's house? There are very few girls with positions like yours; each and every one of them have had to service a man or a woman at least once in their lifetime. Even the ones who work in the lower house. The work you do isn't what's important, my dear: it's who's willing to vouch for you. So, if I write you a letter of recommendation after your tenure as my plaything, no one will care what your work experience is: they will simply care that I am willing to stake my reputation on the fact that you are a hard worker. Depending on how glowing my recommendation is, you could easily find yourself as head maid in someone's house.

"As to your last concern, that you'll turn into something you don't recognize, you've already done that several times in your life: you simply haven't paid it much mind. Do you think that a past version of yourself would recognize you as you are now? If you were to somehow encounter yourself as a toddler, do you think that she'd be able to recognize herself as an adult? Do you think that a ten-year-old you would believe that she would grow into such a curvaceous woman? People change all the time, pet, and they don't even realize it. Besides, your life is not your own to control; life is a state of constant flux that you can only react to. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you get the opportunity to plan things out, but life has a way of changing our plans. This is a change for you, and what you fear isn't what you might become, but a disruption in the routine that you've come to enjoy. What you're not allowing yourself to do is entertain the possibility that you might enjoy what you are about to become. Do not let fear close doors for you before you've even stepped through them."
 
She listened to his words, not liking the fact that they were true but unable to refute them either. She had often noticed the upper maids, noticed how impractical their outfits, how elaborate their hairstyles, how soft and stupid they were when it came to even the most basic duties of a maid. They were utterly worthless at cleaning, couldn't sew to save their lives, their hands perfectly soft and uncallused from working in the kitchen gardens or from scrubbing linens or the Master's clothes. But they were obviously doing something that pleased the Master, and now she had a less ephemeral idea of what that was. She bowed her head a little as he spoke, describing how an obedient and well trained wife would be desirable to a man and couldn't help but think that it made sense, but then why was she forever told that a wife must be pure for her husband when she came to the marriage bed?

She felt a bit more at ease at the thought that, unless she did something incredibly foolish such as Tabitha's woeful lack of good sense, he would give her a good recommendation when he tired of her and she would either be able to stay in his house in a different position or she would be able to go to a different house and be hired on. Hopefully he'd be sensible enough to not discuss the details of this particular part of her service to him, but at least he could vouch for her hard work and dedication to her job. She had always been a quiet, conscientious worker, and the idea of being so highly recommended by him that she could become a head maid or a housekeeper was enough to make her feel a bit more enthusiastic about her job.

She had to admit that she had never thought of things in the way that he presented them. Mostly because she had simply never thought of herself in such a role to change so much. However, the difference she supposed was that as a toddler and then as a child, she had increased in knowledge and sensibility. What she feared was becoming one of those foolish, buffle brained maids that gave no thought to anything aside from the styling of their hair or of what they could order the undermaids to do and fetch for them. Mairead wasn't as well educated as a lord or lady by any stretch of the imagination, but she had been taught by the village vicar how to read and write, to do figures and the rudiments of history and sciences and literature. On some occasions she'd been able to clean the library and had stretched her work out long enough to allow herself to read from one of the many leather bound volumes that filled his collections. Interesting treatises on politics and military history, royal lineages and the stars and planets above them. Many things were beyond her understanding but...she was at least curious about those things, even if they far beyond her own learning. The idea that she would become like those other maids, or even worse, a brainless little pet, shook her to her core. "Do you...dislike women who think, Master Marlowe? I know there are some men who believe that women should not be educated but...but you are not one of them, a-are you?" She asked, trying not to sound as worried as she felt.
 
"I believe that a woman should be able to hold a conversation," said Alexander, smiling. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and used her hair to guide her up until she was sitting in his lap straddling him. "I find an education helps with that considerably. Everything you do reflects on me, pet, so cleverness is most certainly a desirable trait. Tabitha was a rather skilled conversationalist, but she thought that all of the adoration she was lauded with gave her ideas above her station. She believed that the fact that she could make herself the center of attention made her more than a servant. Which was probably why she thought she was clever enough to get away with stealing important documents from me. If you can be clever and remember your place, you will do well for yourself."

His hands began tracing the curves of her body, which he found very pleasing. Mairead had a lovely shape to her: each curve lead into the next one, gently guiding the eye up and down her body. He cupped her breasts in his hands, grinning at the way that even his large hands were unable to contain them. He began kneading them in a skillful chest massage, his hands searching out her nipples and tweaking them to stimulate the lovely, rosy buds. "You already have a pleasing form," he said, his hands continuing to explore her body. "We just need to work on your confidence. Your body is something to be proud of, something to be praised on. You must know that you are a lovely creature and, more importantly, make sure that everyone else knows it. Do you think that you can do that for me, pet?"
 
She rose to her feet at his encouragement, feeling very silly for blushing as she was guided to sit astride his lap, having to force herself to look at him and not away. It was a most disconcerting position, after all; her back arched to keep her balance, her legs folded and her thighs wide - it was the same kneeling position he'd had her in before on the floor, only now it was infinitely more nerve-wracking because at this point, she was close enough to feel his body heat as he continued to speak. She was certainly not trained to be a conversationalist or a sparkling, witty hostess. Mairead had never been the sort to be the center of attention, and was more likely to be overlooked as she quietly went about her duties than to catch the eye and be noticed. She worried that this would make her unsuitable to this position; after all, a large part of what she remembered Tabitha doing was being by his side at social functions, charming everyone with her tinkling laughter and dancer's grace and sloe-eyed, raven haired beauty. Sparrows to peacocks, she couldn't help thinking when she mentally compared herself to her predecessor. However, she was startled out of those ruminations when his hands began to stroke along her skin, making her squirm a little in surprise.

It wasn't as if anyone had ever touched her before, and his fingers seemed to know precisely which places were sensitive or ticklish, eliciting little muffled giggles as his hands traced along the hollow of where her thigh met her hip and the soft flesh over her ribs. Even still, the giggling ceased, becoming a soft gasp as his hands moved up to cup her breasts, making her face flush scarlet. She wished desperately that she had her apron to throw over her face to hide her blushing embarrassment at being touched so intimately, but it was hard to think about even that little thought as his fingers squeezed and stroked her breasts, pinching her nipples between them and making her back arch sharply in surprise with a gasp, hidden by her lower lip caught between her teeth.

His hands continued to move, and just when she thought she would be able to breathe easily again, his fingers found another place to elicit gasps from, and by the time he spoke once more, praising her figure, she was fairly trembling. She had been praised for a great many things in her life; her diligence, her sensibility, her work ethic, even how neat and pretty her handwriting was. She had never been praised for her appearance, and he could visibly see the disbelief when he stated that she was a lovely creature as if it were a subject of fact and not simply a rather ill-informed opinion. How a man who was surrounded with so many beautiful women day in and day out could find her beautiful, she would never understand. Perhaps, she thought bitterly to herself, he spent so much time around great beauties that a plain girl like himself was a novelty. When the novelty wore off, she would have to be wise and careful to be able to return to her former position. "I will learn whatever lessons and skills you wish me to, Master Marlowe. I will endeavor to please and obey you in all things."
 
Alexander sighed and shook his head. "The first thing we're going to have to work on is that attitude of yours," he said. "This is nothing like your old job: you will not succeed if you simply treat it like your duty. You can not simply lay back and think of England while you're with me: you must embrace this role wholeheartedly. I cannot have you by my side with such a surly attitude."

He slid her off of his lap and stood, holding her upright so that she could stand as well. "You are my plaything, yes, but you are also going to be a debutante," he said, slipping into fluent French for that one word. "You must learn what it means to be a good hostess, as well as an enticing pet. No one would want to so much as look at you if you have a blank or sour expression on your face. You cannot do the bare minimum: you must go above and beyond for your role. You must be radiant. You must be charming and, above all, you must be fetching. I do not want you to be quiet and demure: I want you to be enthusiastic and stimulating.

"Do not simply agree with me because that's what I want to hear: actually sell it. Smile, curtsy, and make me believe that you wish to fulfill my every desire. When other men see you in action for the first time, they should be jealous that their women aren't so obedient."

He took a few steps back and regarded her, tapping the crop idly against his palm as he did. "Now, try again."
 
She looked at him uncertainly when he seemed disappointed in her response to him. She was sincere in her desire to serve, she wasn't just doing her duty. This was her new position and she would do her best to do as he wanted her. But...he was disappointed hearing that. As if she had done something wrong. "I...I'm not...I'm not surly, Master Marlowe." She said, blinking in obviously confusion as he slid her off of his lap and letting her stand up on her feet once more. The thought of being a debutante terrified her and she felt herself cringe inward on herself. "I...I am a servant, Master. I have served all my life. I took care of my siblings as a child, I scrubbed in the kitchens as a girl, and I've spent my whole life being a good servant. A good servant is not noticed, is not seen."

She made a motion to the room around him, perfectly maintained and kept. "Your sheets are changed, your drapes are dusted, your floors are swept, and you never have to notice the person that did it. A proper servant doesn't draw attention to herself and never, never acts out in such a way. I've only ever been a servant. I don't...I don't know how to do what you ask." She said, twisting her fingers nervously. "I don't believe that I am suited to this task, Master. I don't think that I will ever be able to act in such a way that you wish. I am not a fancy woman. I am not charming or witty. I'm not seductive or flirty. I don't even know how to be. Please, Master...please choose someone else for this. I don't wish to bring any censure or shame to you or damage your reputation in society."

She could be obedient. That was easy enough. She would obey his command in all things. But she had no idea even how to try to be charming or radiant or fetching or any of those things. He wished for a servant to behave like a coquette, as if she were a fine lady taught all her life how to capture and hold a man's interest, to make him desire her. At twenty six and unmarried, making herself desirable to anyone wasn't a skill set she possessed.
 
Alexander sighed and stalked forwards, towering over Mairead. "You say that you're unmarried, yes?" he asked. "Yet girls much younger than you in a similar position already have husbands and are starting families of their own. Why do you think that is?" He didn't give her time to answer. "It's because they spent their spare time being noticed. If they're sent to the market, they make time to stop and flirt along the way if they see a young man that catches their eye. If they work in the gardens, they'll take time to socialize with the gardeners that come in from time to time in order to seek out a potential husband. Even on their vacations, they spend time searching for a man who can provide for them or get them hired into a better position. Yet here you are, at twenty six, unmarried and with no children or husband.

"I suspect that this is because you have made your work your identity: you are not Mairead, you are simply a maid of the lower house. You are invisible to everyone except Wilson, and he only knows you because it is his business to know everyone who works in my house. Your family wouldn't even know that you exist if it weren't for the money you send home. I can save you from that, Mairead: you don't have to simply be "the maid". I can sculpt you into a person who is far too radiant to be invisible. I can make you into someone with dreams and aspirations and the drive to want to make those dreams come true. All I need to make that happen is your obedience. I need you to want to work with me. I need you to grow a little backbone and face the challenges I set out for you. Can you do that for me?"
 
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