Chapter 2 – Duties to perform.
I felt a bit silly, bordering on ridiculous dressed like this... but I was also very aroused, especially when I caught glimpses of my reflection in the large floor length mirror.
The maids' uniform I was putting on had been designed to show off my body in an erotic sexual way to an observer - it wasn't meant to be comfortable. It wasn't one of those cheep uniforms you can buy in any internet costume site, designed for hen nights or fancy dress parties. The crisp black uniform with exquisite white lace trim that I was struggling to piece together, was cut from expensive French silk, fashioned in such a way that the bodice, that only just covered my nipples, pushed my breasts up to offer ample cleavage and leaving my upper chest and shoulders exposed. It was drawn tightly around my waist with laces like those you might find binding a corset. It felt restrictive, but it was a beautiful dress.
Clare and I had to help each other, fitting it properly before tying off the laces at the back. The skirt part, which was short, was heavily starched and layered over more stiff white lace to stand out rather than fall down to cover out stocking-tops. It felt awkward and uncomfortable to wear and I stifled a giggle as the unbidden image of me flicking a feather duster about dressed like Fifi the French maid flashed across my mind ... and then I sobered, realising that was probably what Madam Reynard was expecting of us.
'What are we doing here, Clare?' I tried to still the fleeting tremble of panic that fluttered through me.
Clare flashed me a smile but chose to say nothing as she clipped the suspender tops to her sheer black stockings.
'Oh, God, Clare ... are we lesbians now?'
'Maybe,' murmured Clare.
I took a moment to gaze at my reflection as Clare, finally finished with her stockings and stood silently beside me.
'This thing doesn't feel right,' she murmured and reached up to adjust her little white lace hair-band making sure the black silk bow was sitting flat. I noticed that as she peered at her reflection, a pretty frown creasing her brow – she looked so incredible – I was happy being a lesbian as long as I was with her.
'We do look amazing.' I giggled gazing at the two saucy French maids in the mirror. I gave a little curtsey and Clare copied me. We hugged each other giggling and, for the moment at least, I forgot my trepidation at this huge change in my lifestyle.
We returned to regard the reflection of the two maids, their legs impossibly long and sexy as they perched high on black stilettos, their black stockings held with slender suspender straps and the tantalising area of skin exposed between stocking-top and skirt.
'My boobs aren't big enough to carry this off. I wish I had breasts like yours.'
'I love your breasts, Clare. I think you look incredible. I just can't believe we're dressed like this; it's embarrassing.'
'It's not really something we'd wear back home, is it.' Clare giggled. 'But we do look good.'
The uniforms gave us a deliciously lewd, naughty look and I knew that, despite my puritanical misgivings, I was becoming very aroused. Reaching down, I tightened the straps of the suspender belt. The short petticoats of the dress rustled as I pushed them aside. The suspender straps were also in black silk, each with a little black bow above clip - I loved the incredible quality of the uniform and especially these small design touches.
I bent forward to smooth my stocking and felt Clare's hand reach under my skirt and caress my bottom - a shiver ran through me.
'Clare!' I pretended to be cross but couldn't help smiling as I allowed her to continue, feeling her hand flutter across my naked bottom before her fingers dipped between my thighs to caress my pussy through the thin veil of my black silk knickers. I sighed and closed my eyes wanting her to push the soft material to the side and slide a finger into my aching wet cunt, but she withdrew her hand back.
'I'm sorry Josie it's just ...' I stood and reached out a finger, silencing her with a touch to the lips, and she came forward to kiss me – her beautiful face coming slowly towards me. Deep red lipstick, dark mascara and liner, sultry grey/blue eye shadow to enhance her blue eyes. My heart fluttered as I sought to lose in the moment.
'Filles non!' Claudette marched into the room and placed the tray she was carrying on the side table before pulling us apart shaking her finger at us. 'You are here for Madam Reynard. There will be work to be done, and games to play, but games are only in the presence of Madam. Now, I will explain a few simple rules for your stay here at Chateau de la Bouche. You may leave at any time ... nobody will stop you, but if you leave without permission you may not return. Do you understand?'
'Yes, Madam,' we chorused.
'Non, I am not the madam, you will refer to me as Claudette.' She smiled reassuringly.
'Yes, Claudette.'
As I have already mentioned, you must only play when you're being watched – either by Madam or by one of her guests. At any time that you're being watched, you will appear as sexual and arousing as you are able. Both Madam Reynard and myself will be on hand to instruct you in the early days. Let me give you an example. When bending over, to dust or pick something up, you will maintain straight legs so that your skirt rises prettily and your bottom is presented. When serving at table, you will allow your cleavage to be displayed and you will also bend forward keeping your legs straight. If you are ever touched, you will continue whatever you are doing unless instructed otherwise. Do you understand all so far?'
'Yes, Claudette.'
'Good girls. Should you do anything wrong, or break something, then you will be punished. Do you understand that?'
'Yes, Claudette.'
'Well, you both look very presentable.' She reached out and tugged my dress slightly lower to expose the top of my nipples; I blushed and managed to stop myself from instantly pulling the bodice back up. 'Much better, my dear. Now, both of you lift your skirts; show me your under-things...'
Now totally embarrassed, we shyly lifted our skirts, gathering the short folds of starched cloth to expose our tiny black knickers.
'...and lower your undergarments.'