This will be my last installment in the series about household maids. it will concern the all-important topic of staff morale and discipline.
In most households that are both wealthy enough and large enough to need a staff of maids, a special time is set aside weekly to address this matter. Often, that is Sunday afternoon. Sunday morning is for attending church services to thank the Lord. Sunday afternoon is reserved for the Lord and/or Lady of the manor to attend to the staff’s needs.
As you can see in both above portraits, any errant behaviors, lack of self-discipline, etc. can be addressed at this time. If an implement is needed, and it usually is, that most often depends upon the seriousness of the deficiency.
I, personally, have worked in households with a large staff, as many as ten maids, as well as in ones where I am the only maid employed.
In these latter situations, an unusually close relationship may develop between the Mistress of the manor and the maid. More than just the usual duties may become expected to be performed.
For that reason, I prefer a maid’s position like the I one in which I currently serve, for a single gentleman, like Lord Stephen at Ridgewood Hills Estate. He is strict and exacting in his standards, and my bottom is no stranger to his razor strap. But, although he disciplines me religiously with no quarter shown, it is a pleasure to watch his well-tailored trousers become tight as the lesson proceeds. By the end of twenty strokes with the leather, my usual consequence for a week’s worth of errors, his suit pants resemble a circus tent. I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t offer to relieve his discomfort. Sometimes that is achieved with my hands. My Lord jokes that the strength I’ve developed polishing all the manor’s silver-service is put to good use at these times, on his “samovar.” On other occasions, my Lord prefers that I use my mouth. Sir Stephen remarks that my talented mouth could suck all the chrome off a trailor-hitch in minutes flat, a comment that always makes me blush. On rare occasion, particularly around special holidays, such as his birthday, on Easter or the Sunday following Christmas morn, something extra special only seems right for me to offer to my Lord. We both fear an unwanted pregnancy, so not much time is spent in my sex, but Sir Stephen has become a veritable connoisseur of sexual congress via by backside.
Apparently my Master was raving about my skills in this arena to his dear uncle, Archibald, recently by phone. Wouldn’t you know it, quick as a flash, Uncle Archie paid us a visit. He insisted that I wasn’t being disciplined sternly enough for my own good, and further insisted on showing my Master the proper use of a stiff cane, both a thin rattan one, and his very thick, stout one that stiffened during the lesson. Now it appears as though my “Sunday sessions” will be twice as long…