Lillian, being the nineteen-year-old daughter of a Duke, rarely took interest in the staff of her father's house. However, the summer of 1859, one new face did catch her attention: a girl of an age with her who began working in the kitchen.
Well, to be very honest, it wasn't the girl's face--plain and often sour as it was--that caught her attention. It was the odd hard lines that stood out around her waist, as if she was wearing some very specific sort of undergarment under her dresses. Lillian became so curious about it that she eventually cornered the head cook, Gretchen, to ask.
"Gretchen, just who is that new girl you've got working with you?"
"Oh, you must mean Priscilla. We call her Prissy," the round older woman said, scowling. "My niece. Not caused any trouble, has she, Miss Lillian?"
"No, no, of course not. I was just wondering--well, perhaps this is a delicate matter, but I swear it looks as if she's wearing..." Lillian glanced around, despite knowing full well they were alone, and mimed a triangle over her thighs. Gretchen laughed a deep belly laugh.
"Aye, she's wearing a belt. Her parents sent her here to keep her out of trouble--caught her with a boy, you know--and I wasn't taking no chances. Not like I can keep my eye on her every minute of the day. Heaven knows where she even is right now."
"Goodness," Lillian said, widening her eyes. "And she wears it all the time?"
"I take it off for her when we take our baths," Gretchen said, shrugging, as if it was no matter to her that Prissy was locked away from her privates except during the bathing time she shared with her own aunt. "I suppose it's a bit of a hardship on the girl. I've told her before she can ask me if she wants a bit of time with it off, alone, y'know, but she never does."
"Hmm. I suppose I wouldn't be very comfortable asking my own aunt for such a thing," Lillian said. "Don't you suppose she might be more comfortable discussing those...needs with someone else? A girl her own age, perhaps?"
"Ain't any other girls her own age around," Gretchen pointed out. "Save you, of course, Miss Lillian, and I wouldn't dream of having her bother you with such things."
"Oh, I wouldn't mind at all!" Lillian said immediately. "I mean, if you would trust me with that, Gretchen."
"Hmm," Gretchen said, finally looking up from her soup and eyeing Lillian with consideration. "Truly? You wouldn't mind? You think she's pretty, is that it?" Lillian just smiled bashfully, and Gretchen snorted. "Well, there's no harm in it. I had a few special friends of my own at your age, and it's not as if you can get her in the family way. It might improve her disposition, anyway." She fished the key out of her pocket and handed it over to Lillian. "Here. I'll let her know that she's to go to you from now on, if you don't mind reminding her to wash up down there regularly when she's got it off."
"Oh, absolutely. Thank you, Gretchen."
After that, it was only a matter of waiting.
It was nearly a week, in fact, before Lillian heard any more on the matter, but she wasn't surprised; she'd barely said two words to Prissy, and the girl was likely alarmed by the entire proposal. But finally--shortly after bathing day, and perhaps on Gretchen's insistence--the sour-faced girl came knocking at Lillian's rooms after dinner.
Lillian called for her to come in, and smiled widely when Prissy opened the door. "Priscilla! Prissy? What do you prefer? Oh, do come in, let's talk."
Prissy frowned and took a few tentative steps into Lillian's sitting room, then jumped when the door swung shut behind her. One of her arms was folded over her stomach and the other fiddled at her waist, thumb tracing over the hard line of the chastity belt locked around her waist. "Prissy is fine. Miss Lillian, I'm not sure--"
"Don't be silly," Lillian said immediately. "I know your, shall we say, feminine parts must be simply gasping for a bit of air by now, and we both know that asking one's aunt for permission to touch oneself is not exactly conducive to a good time."
A flush rose in the girl's cheeks as she gaped at Lillian, looking more stunned than outraged. Lillian took advantage of her shock and stood up, grabbing Prissy by the arm and pulling her further into the room, chattering as she went.
"Come on now. Of course, it wouldn't be much fun for me to just unlock you and leave you about your business, but I've thought of just the thing. Look here." She drew the girl through a door and into her bedroom, to a space of wall under a hook that had once held a hanging candle fixture of some weight. "Stand right there. That's a dear."
She hurried over to her dresser, kicking shut her bedroom door as she went, and retrieved a bit of rope that she'd secured for just such an occasion. When she went back to Prissy with the rope and began to tie it around one of her wrists, Prissy tried to draw away with a startled, "hey!"
"Now, Prissy," Lillian tutted, though she did pause. "Listen. I know this might seem frightening, but I think you and I will have some fantastic fun together."
"What sort of fun?" Prissy demanded warily, her undecorated face screwed up in suspicion.
"Well, I thought that would be obvious. That boy your parents caught you with--yes, Gretchen told me all about it--did you never let him touch you between your legs?" Lillian asked. Prissy shook her head, but she flushed deeply and bit her lip in a very telling way that had Lillian laughing. "Oh, but I suppose you wanted him to, hmm? Well, let me tell you, most boys aren't very good at it, but I've got a great deal of experience myself, you know." She winked. "You'll love having my hands on you, I promise."
Prissy considered this for a long moment, shifting her weight. Lillian could see it was getting to her, and no wonder; surely after so long without being able to take care of herself, it must be difficult for Prissy to think clearly when presented with the idea of someone else giving her a good rub-down. Lillian was relying on it.
"What's the rope for?" Prissy demanded finally.
"To keep your hands restrained, of course. I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, Prissy. I want to take my time with you, and I don't want you reacting out of impatience." Lillian gave the nervous girl a polished, sweet smile. "It'll be worth your while, I promise you." To emphasize her point, she reached down the front of her own dress and pulled out the key from where she'd tucked it away.
Prissy stared at the key--and a bit at Lillian's cleavage behind the frothy lace collar of the dress, perhaps--and then, finally, she nodded. "Okay. But nothing--nothing funny, or I'll tell Aunt Gretchen."
"Funny! Goodness, I would never!" Lillian lied, and returned to tying Prissy's wrists, now with the girl's cooperation. Then she looped the rope up over the hook, so that Prissy's hands were held above her head, which immediately brought a look of alarm to the girl's face, but it was too late for her to change her mind now. Lillian smiled broadly.
"There. Look at you. All wrapped up like a present, hmm?" she said, mostly to herself. Prissy opened her mouth as if to say something, but Lillian stepped forward and grabbed a handful of the girl's plain gingham dress and began to hike it up, and whatever words she had been working on became just a startled squeak as her legs were exposed. Lillian continued to roll the dress up, tucking it into the ribbon that held it cinched around Prissy's waist, until she exposed the girl's thighs and then the gleaming metal and leather contraption locked around her hips.
"And there it is," Lillian said, crouching down to get a look. It was a very simple construction; a leather belt hooked around the poor girl's hips held it in place, and the cup itself was made of a metal mesh, allowing urine to pass through but allowing nothing inside. Lillian poked and prodded at it a bit, tested to see if she could fit a finger underneath--Prissy sucked in a quick breath as Lillian's fingers felt around her stomach, her thighs--but it had been fitted quite securely. "What a devil of a thing, hmm? No wonder you're always frowning. I'd be inconsolable if someone locked me in this," Lillian said brightly. "Ah, here's where the key fits."
She unlocked the belt and pulled it away, and immediately the smell of feminine arousal and sweat became more prominent. Lillian wrinkled her nose in delight and looked up at Prissy, who was fully flushed now, looking away in abject mortification. Her nethers were damp, likely permanently so.
"Oh, come on now," Lillian coaxed, standing to place the belt aside. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Anyone would be in such a state. Your poor little treasure."
Prissy locked her knees together in an attempt to hide said treasure, and then let out an involuntary gasp at just the stimulation of her thighs rubbing against a place so long untouched. Lillian chuckled and grabbed one of her legs, tugging.
