YOUNG MAN FORCED TO BE MAIDSERVANT

Dear Sir,

I had no idea of the real reason mother suggested I spend a year with her sister in England, after I had graduated from high school. The thought that I had simply become too unmanigable for her and that having seen her sister's well-mannered boy had given her the idea that Aunt Olivia could produce the same results never crossed my mind.

I found that Aunt Olivia was a very wealthy woman who lived some distance from London in a small village. She had a son Jeremy who of all things was dressed in a kilt. When I asked his age his mother told me that how a boy acted was representative of how old a boy he was, and nothing else. I should have taken that as a hint of what was to come. For in the morning my clothes were gone and in their place was a kilted outfit.

I had decided not to get out of bed until my clothes were returned when a stern woman who proclaimed she was, of all things, my governess entered. I was literally yanked naked out of bed and then not dressed but placed over her lap. I received the first spanking of my life for resisting and disobeying her.

I was surprised and humiliated at how easily I was held, however I had never been too athletic and the cross I have had to bear while growing up, and in particular in high school, was the fact that the majority of kids, especially the girls were taller than I was.

I was quite ready to don my kilt by the time she was finished with me. Fully dressed the kilt rested several inches above my knees, and the white socks were not even knee length, but short socks that were turned down and held by red flashes. The white shirt had a small childish collar, full sleeves, and cuffs that fell far short of my wrists. A very small open red vest went over that, a red tie, belt, and a purse like garment called a sporran. The shoes were red strap shoes, and so tight I winced as they were put on. Then while I held the kilt up, a pair of very full trews with elasticized legs and drawstring waist were drawn up my legs. The belt was a peasant style cinch and the woman laced it so tightly in back that my sides hurt. Two slim straps with silver buckles then were buckled over the laces.

Marched downstairs by the woman who carried a short, menacing cane in her hand I was delivered to my aunt.

While I was staying with her I would be dealt with no differently than her seventeen-year-old. From the many letters she's received from my mother I couldn't hope, by my actions, to be considered or treated as anything but a child. I was to be fully in the hands of Mrs. Martin, my governess.

When I protested that I was eighteen and graduated from high school I was reminded that age meant absolutely nothing to her. An eighteen-year­old who acted like a child must be considered a child, I was told.

Back in the hands of the feared woman I was told what was expected of me. Children had no real concept of "right or wrong" and did not have the experience to draw from to either make decisions or decide what was best for them.

I was to be punished, I was informed, if I made any decisions on my own, however unimportant, or was caught doing anything I had not been given permission to do. Nor was I even permitted to make a suggestion. My opinion, likewise, was of no value and if I gave it that too would be harshly dealt with.

I had to observe dozens of precise rules including bowing which was done normally except that while one hand was behind my back the other was to hold the hem of my kilt out and back as I bowed. I was not permitted to run, and I learned that a properly graceful walk was indeed a very short one. I was to stand as one would in a skirt-like garment, and to sit demurely with knees together, hands crossed on my lap and my feet nicely crossed at the ankles.

I was cruelly punished on the palms and soles of my hands and feet if my posture in any way was deemed improper. And of course for anything else I was laid across her lap and the cane or the hair brush administered.

My days that summer were spent with my cousin, Jeremy, usually on the veranda with the governess. In the morning I was made to recite poetry and write essays, and practice a very delicate form of script writing. I was taught to do needlepoint as a sedate hobby. Then before lunch we were put in ballet outfits and toe slippers for an hour to develop grace.

In the afternoon I was made to don a frilly white pinafore and was assigned boring, domestic chores such as scrubbing floors, waxing furniture, and ironing. My Aunty, as I was to address her, was most concerned that her son and I learn the value of work, which we did from one to five with an hour's break at three o'clock. At that time Jeremy was taken off for his afternoon nap, while I was made to practice my walk, posture, and was drilled in etiquette. The cane was used on my backside as an incentive to be attentive and to concentrate.

I found that my initial attire was the least offensive. At lunch and dinner we were dressed up in even more childish attire. The same went for Sundays and when there were guests, or we accompanied Aunty on a visit. To my surprise the childish way I was dressed seemed to surprise none of her friends, however despite my age they treated me as I was dressed. It was most humiliating, but I found out why when we went on our first visit.

Her friend's sixteen-year-old boy was dressed as sissy as we were, although the woman's daughter of the same age was dressed her age and treated accordingly. The governess explained that it was the mistress' thinking, and that of her wealthy friends that boys did not mature as quickly as girls and thus could not be treated the same, regardless of their age. And that summer I fully believed it, meeting some much younger girls dressed their age and next to them we two looked truly juvenile.

In the fall and winter I attended a special private school created by Aunt Olivia and her friends who had young boys of their own.

There was no change in my status for fully two years. Although twenty years old, as far as Aunt Olivia was concerned I could have been eleven or twelve. I was dressed and treated in precisely the same way I had been when I had first arrived. More humiliating than the way I was dressed was that after all those months I now acted in precisely the manner expected of me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had become much slimmer and my muscles were soft, my legs according to one of her friends "the envy of any girl." Yet my hair was kept short so that I would not be mistaken for one. All ability to make decisions or think for myself had been forcefully eliminated. I didn't leave a room without permission, even to my shame if I knew nobody else was even in the house. Told by my governess to sit on the porch swing and do my needlepoint, I would sit for hours without thinking of stopping or getting up off the swing, even though I would grow very weary sitting there, my fingers aching from the tedious work, and having an urgent need to go to the bathroom.

I couldn't believe that on my twentieth birthday I sat demurely on the sofa in the sitting room. Nor that I sat in a short red and yellow pleated kilt, its hem falling just past mid-thigh. I wore a soft white satin blouse with a full collar completely ruffled, extending out to my shoulders. A large sissy bow tied in front, with ruffle trimmed tucks, lace trimmed ruffled cuffs. Over that a boyishly short red velvet sleeveless jacket trimmed in red satin. My hands, as always, were buttoned into ultra tight white gloves. On my legs were short white girls turn-down socks with red flashes. My feet were confined in red, gleaming dress pumps with satin trim large bows on each toe, and girlish court heels, two inches high. My hair was bobbed and my cheeks rouged.

I sat with my head bowed, permitted to look up only when asked a question, and I listened to the most horrible of all conversations. It was between Aunty and a wealthy friend. With her eighteen-year­old niece coming to stay for the summer she felt that as the girl was used to a maid or groom of her own that it would be necessary to find one temporarily.

To my horror I heard Aunt Olivia say that she felt I would make the girl a perfect groom, and that the summer would be a perfect test of whether I was attaining the proper values to carry me through life or not. If I passed, she told her friend that in all probability she might further the boy's education so that suitable employment could be found for me in the future. If not, I heard her say, I would most certainly remain a child "for some time to come." It was a terribly difficult and humiliating summer for me. The niece, Daphne, was a beautiful, long­legged girl who treated me with no more warmth or kindness than she had other servants, although with her friends she was very lively and gay.

She had growp up with servants all around her and her impersonal stern voice indicated she was quite accustomed to ordering them about. As she did me. I was made to wear a plain grey pinafore apron at all times, identical to those the maids wore. Since I was a kilted boy, it was the only logical solution to protect my clothes. She spoke not one word of conversation to me the entire summer, and fully expected me to fulfill not only the role of a groom, but that of a maid as well. Ordered to put her shoes on for her, arrange her clothes, comb her hair, and even polish her nails.

However while being treated as nothing more than a domestic servant, the girl did not forget that I was still considered a child. And when I displeased her she punished me like one. When I was slow to respond to one of her orders or was caught day dreaming, I was made to stand in the corner on the tall side of a cigar box with only my toes permitted on the box. I wouldn't cheat, but to ensure that I didn't I had my ankles tied. If I didn't carry out her wishes to absolute perfection, this eighteen-year­old girl actually took the cane to me, ordering me to hold my kilt up and drop my trews in a most humiliating position. Nor did she once show any leniency. With my punishment delivered and my backside in flames, I was simply left bent over for hours. Nor, to my shame, did I even think to disobey her or offer any resistance.

When I showed the slightest lack of respect, like not bowing my head, or even not bowing it low enough, or forgetting to bow, I was shut up, locked in her shoe closet, with no air and little light. I was let out only when all the shoes in the closet had been polished to perfection. Once let out of the closet, I knew to expect a caning and without asking I was to bend over and shamefully drop my trews.

I lived through the summer only through the hope that Aunty would decide I had not disgraced myself and had acted properly enough to be taken out of children's clothes and found suitable employment.

Which she did, but not in any way that I expected. To my dismay I learned that I was to be sent with my cousin to trade school. There I would be taught typing, shorthand, filing and other office skills. I was also not taken out of kilts. They were however lowered to within two inches of my knees, and my short socks replaced with knee socks. My shirts, except for dressy occasions, lacked much of the ruffles and lace, but were no less childish in style.

I cried for hours when I returned after my first day in school, for it was in reality a school for secretaries.

When I graduated I was hired by the mother of the eighteen-year-old girl whom. I had served as both groom and maid for the previous summer. She owned a women's fashion shop and for months I worked as a clerk attending to women and girls. After that I was promoted to typist, and then assistant secretary.

However that was only to be part of my employment. Sent to live with the woman, I was assigned a room in the servant's quarters and found that immediately upon returning from th store I was put into a uniform and sent to her daughter's room.

When the girl graduated from college and joined her mother's business, I became the young girl's personal secretary. My life is devoted to satisfying the demands of the beautiful daughter twenty-four  hours a day. I was kept in kilts, and any free time was totally at her whim. I also found that my duties were to include very intimate ones that she demanded of me with increasing frequency. My duties never included any of my natural urges, however I soon came to understand that with exceptional work and obedience that would please her, I would stand in front of her with legs spread, kilt held high, my trews down at my ankles while my beautiful employer impersonally masturbated me into a lace hankie.

Not even what free time I had was mine. She informed me that because of her position I could not be left to choose what I could do. Given a half day off, I was then told what I was to do during that time. My social life was also carefully supervised by her for the same reason. Any parties or actual "dates" that I'm allowed are arranged by her, and she is careful to make certain that they parallel my position in life. Parties and dates are usually those of the children of other domestics.

When I will ever marry or not is not to be my decision I was informed.