Fantasy Holiday

By

Rob Willson

 

Chapter 2

 

At first, Peter could not understand the point of both stills and video covering the same ground, but as he began to watch the video, he realised that his recollections from the photos had been from his own standpoint, whilst the video reminded him of his feelings and attitudes at the time. He could now also see the situations from a third party view and hear other people’s comments.

He later also realised that much of the ‘action’ had been very static with, for example, him waiting for something to happen, or wondering what something would be like, and this would be a waste of video time. Much of the ‘pleasure’ of a scenario often came from the person’s thoughts and apprehension of the humiliation or pain to come. A little boy, waiting for a frilly pinafore to be tied on him in front of a group of giggling girls, would probably suffer more from the anticipation of the fact than from the act itself and this memory could be adequately conjured up from a still photo.

As he worked his way through the videos, he recognised a pattern in that the first part of his day, possibly up to the end of the first hour, would be covered in full and then, when the scene had been set; the rest of the day was highlighted.

Now back to the first video. He saw himself wake up and then saw the look of alarm and surprise on his face, when the two maids came into his room. He remembered his feelings as he had reluctantly put the uniform on, but could now watch the expressions on his face and those on the other participants faces (which he hadn’t been able to notice, or see, at the time), as they took part in the scene.

The ‘Housekeeper’ had entered and told him he was now a housemaid, called DORIS and introduced the Head Housemaid to him, who would train him in his duties. She pointed out that he could be punished, if it were thought to be necessary, and that the Head Housemaid had authority to give him up to six strokes of the cane on any occasion that he deserved it.

The two of them left the room for a moment and Peter started to relax. "Don't move Doris", hissed the maid on his left. "She will be back in a moment and she is very handy with that cane and she enjoys using it."

After she returned, the Head Housemaid had said very abruptly, "You will address me as ‘Miss’ and I will now tell you the fact of your training, as opposed to the theory you have just heard. Since I am only allowed to use this toy cane on you", she unhooked it from her belt and swished it in the air,

"I see no point in ever giving you fewer than six strokes and the way I work is as follows. If I think you are a lazy slut, I will give you six for being lazy. If you are an insubordinate lazy slut, that will earn you twelve. In other words, you can forget about two strokes for this and three for that and expect to be well thrashed every time you don’t meet my standards,

"Do I make myself clear and do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss", Doris answered,

"Right! Now we will teach you the proper way to answer that, and any other question." She turned to the maid on Peter’s right and asked, "Did I make myself clear, Mandy?"

The maid kept her mouth shut and dipped a small curtsey.

"Now how do you answer if you haven’t understood?"

Mandy curtseyed again and said, "I am very sorry Miss, but I did not understand and humbly beg you to repeat the instruction", followed by another curtsey. As the maid spoke for the first time, Peter realised from his voice that ‘she’ was a man!

"Now do YOU understand Doris?" the Head Housemaid snapped at Peter. He was just about to murmur, "Yes, Miss", but remembered in time to attempt a small curtsey instead. "Good!"

The Head Housemaid spent the next half-hour parading Peter up and down, ‘letting him used to his calf-length skirt and medium-heeled shoes and how to curtsey in them’. By the end of the session, which seemed to him to occupy all morning and not just half an hour, he could be reasonably certain of answering with a creditable curtsey, instead of speaking. Several times, he had expected his trainer to unhook her cane, but she only shouted at him and he began to believe that all the talk about ‘thrashing’ was nothing but talk. And there he fell into the carefully prepared trap that she had set.

His next lesson was on how to scrub a floor. One of the maids demonstrated and then they changed his starched cotton apron for a shiny white plastic one and left him with a long corridor to scrub clean. He began to do it in a rather desultory fashion, feeling a bit let down by his fantasy, and tried to think what it must have been like for a real housemaid to scrub, knowing that she had no option but to do it thoroughly. He continued to scrub half-heartedly for about 15 minutes. (The video did not show the whole of this period, but indicated the lapsed time by an inserted clock.)

Watching the uniformed figure, he could see how half-hearted the maid was working and he distinctly remembered thinking at the time how bored he was getting and wondering when the fantasy would move on to something else.

At that point, he heard the head housemaid’s voice on the soundtrack say, "look at the impudent lazy cow. She is not putting her back into it at all, it’s time we taught her a lesson."

He watched as the three figures came down the corridor and he was jerked to his feet by his fellow maids. The Head Housemaid slapped his face from both sides. Have you forgotten already what insubordinate lazy sluts get? Just in case you have, it is twelve strokes of the cane. Bring her!"

He was quickly hustled into a room at the end of the corridor, which had a whipping block in the centre. "Strip her!" Hardly before he realised it, he was naked and a black rubber ‘punishment’ apron was tied on and then he was strapped face down, with his naked bottom feeling very vulnerable.

"You count the strokes Ada".

He heard the sound of the cane being swished through the air a couple of times and then came the first cut. He had been expecting a mild pleasant tingling sensation and was surprised at just how much it had stung and how he and the others had been conned with the talk of ‘pleasure canes’. As the whipping progressed, and the strokes began to overlay, he wondered how much more a caning with a ‘real’ cane would hurt! For the last three of his punishment, he was yelling his head off like any naughty child being whipped.

As it neared the end, he also admitted that, given the scenario, he had well earned the thrashing and had been justly punished. Back on his feet, he was instructed on how to thank his tormentor for punishing him. Curtseying, he murmured the prescribed formula and he was then left wearing the rubber apron alone and was told. "Now you go back to the beginning of your task and start all over again". This time he scrubbed as though his life depended on his doing the job properly and he realised he now had the answer to his question of how a real housemaid would feel. As Peter watched this part of the video, he understood the subtle difference between the two stills. The first showed make-believe scrubbing and the second the real thing

The stills had brought back all the memories of how he had felt during the caning, but, listening and seeing it stroke by stroke was far more vivid and, when he re-played this sequence, he also watched the other people in the room. The two maids looked faintly sorry for him, but obviously felt that he deserved his punishment, but the really interesting and unexpected thing was the expression on the Head Housemaid’s face. It was obvious that she was really enjoying her part in it and that she intended this to be only a beginning.

He spent the next two hours scrubbing the corridor very thoroughly indeed, as he thought, but his best was not good enough for his teacher, and he was punished several more times. He found it very humiliating to stand meekly, with his hand outstretched like a naughty schoolgirl, while she caned, or strapped, it and he found that the repeated canings on his hands, which were becoming quite numb and sore, did not help with using the scrubbing brush effectively. Two hours later, he was finished after a fashion. His hands ached, his arse was very sore, and his shoulders, neck, back and knees were also badly affected by the long period of unaccustomed physical work.

The Head Housemaid said, "Well, I am not really satisfied with the result, but we cannot spend any more time on scrubbing floors, because you have many more things to learn today. If we had more time I would make you do it all again, but instead, you can have another six on your arse and then we can all break for a meal. But I have to warn you that if you don’t buck your ideas up you are going to be a very sad maid by tonight!

"Remember that this is the starting point for next time and I will expect a big improvement in your scrubbing."

So, with another six weals on his buttocks, he joined the other two maids round a table in a small room. A kitchen maid brought in three large soup plates and ladled them full from a tureen. Peter was ravenous and he remembered that there had been no time for breakfast, but lost his appetite at the sight of the revolting mess on his plate.

It seemed to be a mixture of rice, semolina, tapioca, macaroni and spaghetti, none of which he liked at all. It was a nasty looking barely-warm glutinous mess, with a taste to match; but to cap it all, it was also full of lumps which turned out to be large pieces of fat.

He looked at his fellow maids, but they did not seem at all surprised by their meal and were both eating very quickly. (They were well aware that it was far worse when it got cold and it was well on the way to that state before it reached them.)

Peter said, "Yuck! I can’t eat that revolting stuff, as hungry as I am, and I’m not even going to try".

They exchanged glances and then the male maid got up and left the room. He was soon back with the Head Housemaid, who said, "What’s this Mandy tells me about you not wanting your dinner Doris?"

Peter answered, "That muck is not fit to eat and I won’t touch it. Apart from the main mess, I just cannot stand eating fat at any price. I would rather go hungry to the next meal."

He saw his companions exchange glances and wondered if the Head Housemaid was about to explode and haul him off to the whipping block again, but his stomach was heaving so much that he didn’t really care.

Instead, she simply said, "Well, if you don’t want to eat, I can find you another job." and he found himself with his rubber apron back on scrubbing out lots of burnt dirty pans in the kitchen sink. When the allocated mealtime was over, the Head Housemaid told him, "I’ve spoken to the Housekeeper and she has ruled that scrubbing a few dirty pans is not sufficient punishment for refusing to eat a perfectly good meal. So you are to receive six strokes of the medium tawse on each hand and twelve on the buttocks, followed by a period of reflection in the stocks,

After being thrashed, he was sat bare-arsed on a narrow hard wooden bench with his ankles enclosed in holes in another bar of wood. This bar was raised above the level of the seat, so that he was tilted back slightly. It was so uncomfortable to sit like this that he had to rest some of his weight with his hands on yet another bar behind and below the seat. The wall facing him was a mirror and the Head Housemaid remarked that it was also a one-way mirror and that if he fidgeted too much, someone would come in and do this. ‘This’ was several whacks on the soles of his feet with the tawse.

She glanced up at a digital clock on the wall and said, "You will have at least half an hour to reflect on how naughty and disobedient you have been so far today and to consider what answers you will give to the Housekeeper when she comes to see you."

Each time something had happened, he had thought his misery could not get worse, but it was very very uncomfortable in the stocks and once a strange maid came in and gave him six strokes with the strap on the soles of his feet, snapped, "Stop fidgeting!" and went out again.

After about 35 minutes, the door suddenly opened and the Housekeeper came in with Mandy.

"I’ve decided that we can’t waste good food and that you must eat something. MUCK indeed!"

She had a large red rubber apron on over her dress, and Mandy tied a large rubber bib round his neck and strapped his wrists together behind him. The Housekeeper then sat on a small stool and proceeded to feed him spoonfuls of the meal he had earlier refused, but, if he had thought it revolting when he first saw it, it was far worse now that it was cold and congealed from being kept in a refrigerator.

He tried to fight against eating, but they just pinched his nose and stuffed the spoonfuls in his mouth. When he gagged on the pieces of fat and tried to bring them up, they simply scraped them off his bib and chin and stuffed them back in again. In one case, when he had managed to spit a large piece out, the maid scraped it off the floor and just popped it back into his mouth as the Housekeeper squeezed his nose and he gasped for breath.

When the bowl was finally empty, the Housekeeper had smiled and said, "You can now sit there for another half hour and think about whether you will refuse future meals, but before that".

She had then turned him over her rubber covered lap and thoroughly thrashed him again with a hard wooden paddle

Peter re-ran this scene again and watched their faces this time, as they enjoyed his discomfiture.

He was finally released and set to work again. He polished furniture and floors, cleaned windows and carpets and, finally, carried a large pile of bricks, a few at a time on panniers and a milkmaid’s yoke from A to B, was beaten again for stacking them untidily, and then carried them back to point A.

During this period, all pretence about a maximum of six strokes of the cane was completely abandoned. Once he was given a choice of ten strapped down on the block, or six, if he meekly bent over and grasped his ankles. He chose the six. By this time, he was so browbeaten and tired that he co-operated immediately with every order and suggestion. This was obviously the period from which the first photo he had seen had been taken.

Finally, at 6 PM, the day’s session finished and Ada took a very tired and aching Doris back to her ‘cell’, where his own clothes were neatly folded and he changed back into being Peter. At this point, Ada began to call him ‘Sir’. As he changed, he found that she was willing to chat and give information. "Why do you stand it?" he asked, "surely there are better jobs available, whatever they pay you?"

She laughed and said, "Oh, I never realised you didn’t know, Sir. The ladies who played the Housekeeper and Head Housemaid are staff members, but the fact is that Mandy and I are slaves and have no option".

"You are joking", said Peter, "slavery is not legal".

"I wish that were true", she murmured, "but this place is autonomous and its very much legal here. The staff here is a mixture of management employees and slaves, but all the menials are usually slaves, except in very special circumstances."

"I understand a lot more now", said Peter "I couldn’t understand why you put up with the awful food and that very severe beating she gave you and Mandy. That was a ‘real’ cane, wasn’t it? It looked as though it hurt a lot."

"Yes to both questions. It was a real cane and it hurt like hell and do you know what we had done to deserve it? Nothing at all. She was just frustrated at not being able to use it on you and decided to take her temper out on us. That ‘awful’ food, by the way, is known as Slave Mix No. 1 and we have it quite often.

"By the way, Sir, you will have already noticed that it doesn’t really matter what you do in a scenario, because they will have you one way or the other. For example, you were once caned for being saucy and the next time you were baited you held your tongue and were caned for ‘dumb insolence’. However, occasionally, a guest makes a bad mistake and I’m afraid you made a very bad one over the food. Fancy telling her that you wouldn’t eat fat at any price. I think you are going to become quite familiar with Slave Mix No. 1 by the time you leave. Incidentally, it is slightly more edible when it is warm (we never get it hot!), but I somehow don’t think you will get much choice in the matter in future.

"They put vitamins and minerals into it, in order to keep both clients and slaves healthy, but they also add ingredient X, which gives it that extra unpleasant after-taste, which lingered on for about two hours."

"Oh my God!" said Peter, "I do wish I could turn the clock back".

"Well you can’t", she replied, "but I think you will remember to be more careful in the future".

"Another question I want to ask is about the cane she used on me. The so-called pleasure cane. It surely isn’t the same as these light canes they showed us in reception is it?"

"Actually, they are identical, Sir. The Management do not lie to their customers ever, although the may not always tell you the whole truth at the beginning."

"That can’t be true. Those canes they showed us in reception would never have stung like that!"

Ada smiled again, "I assure you that they are identical, but have you considered the fact that our canes are left overnight in a tub of water and that those in reception are bone dry and that might just have something to do with it? In fact, the water treatment upgrades them altogether, but they are still some way short of being a real cane, but I expect you will experience the difference before you leave us."

By this time, they had reached his ‘hotel room’.

"May I suggest you bath and rest until I come to collect you at 7.30 for your evening meal and a social evening with your fellow holiday-makers. I get a short break for a meal now. I do hope it is more edible than my last one", she smiled wryly to remind him that she had had to eat the same muck that he had objected to so strongly. "I shall be a waitress at your meal this evening and I shall then have to help wash up before my day is finished."

Peter asked, "Is it OK for you to answer my questions like this? You won’t get into trouble because of anything you have just told me will you?"

"Oh no, Sir. All slaves are aware of what we can tell at any time and what we may not and, since we may be listened to at any time, no slave is going to risk the punishment that follows. Anyway, I must go now, Sir, but, if you think of any other questions I might be allowed to answer, then you can ask me after tomorrow’s session."

At the meal, he found there were 20 people in his holiday group. They sat at four tables with a Management Representative at each table. Ada was the waitress for Peter’s table, and she was wearing a uniform which was a cross between a frilly French Maid and that of a cocktail waitress.

"I’ve noticed you keep glancing at my uniform, Sir. Do you think it is attractive and sexy?"

"Rather", said Peter.

"Well, if I’ve noticed you looking, then I am sure Management have as well, so I think you can expect to be wearing a similar, but more garish, version in public very soon."

"Oh no!" gasped Peter.

"Oh yes!" chorused the staff member and Ada.

Because it was the first evening, conversation, especially about each person’s activities, was a bit restrained. However, during coffee, he found himself with an attractive young woman, Helen, whom he remembered talking to the evening before, when they had tentatively tried out and joked about the so-called ‘fun canes’.

Peter repeated what Ada had told him about the canes being soaked in water.

"That explains a lot", said Helen, "I almost jumped out of my skin the first time it landed on me. It stung so! I have been told that they give you a harder time in the first few sessions and then ease off a bit, but I’ll believe that rumour when it happens. Also, that there will be group sessions, so I imagine there will be less shyness about talking tomorrow evening. But let’s make a bargain. I’ll tell you about my day, if you promise to tell me about yours."

"Done", agreed Peter, "but you might not believe me!"

"Well, it seems that there is a session, when we first arrive, when we are interviewed under a mixture of drugs and hypnosis and they find out what we really want to experience. They also put certain suggestions and ideas into the interview, in case there are things we would like, but don’t realise, so it seems we could all be in for some surprises.

"They must have come across a childhood episode when I was fascinated by ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ and wondered what it would have been like to have been a slave girl in the Deep South, especially if the blacks had been the masters and the whites their slaves, and that is what I experienced today!"

"You don’t mean you spent the day picking cotton, or something like that, do you?" Peter asked.

"No, of course not. I was a domestic servant, called Bessie, and spent the whole day being a household drudge for a very hard-to-please, black mistress, who hated young pretty white slave girls and enjoyed humiliating and punishing them and generally making their lives a misery. Now what did you do?"

"After what you have just said, I don’t think you are going to believe me", said Peter.

"Now you are not going back on your promise to tell me are you?"

"No, it’s not that, but I spent a very similar day to you, training as a housemaid under a very strict and demanding Head Housemaid"

"You’re kidding me" she gasped.

"I assure you I am not. I was a 1930’s housemaid in a starched cap and apron, that’s when I wasn’t wearing a rubber or plastic one, and my trainer had a cane, and an attitude, like your mistress did,"

"I’m still finding it hard to adjust to the idea. You see I didn’t really expect a feller to be fantasising as a female domestic servant."

Peter caught the eye of the woman who had been the ‘housekeeper’ and said, "We are swapping stories of what happened to both of us today and I would like you to confirm to Helen what I did in my scenario".

She smiled and said, "If you wait a moment, I can do better than that". Less than five minutes later, she returned with two envelopes and gave them one each.

Peter opened his and saw a very chastened Helen/Bessie, in a long black dress with white cap and apron, rubbing her buttocks with tears running down her face, while a severe-looking black woman brandished a cane and appeared to be lecturing her.

Helen gave a half gasp, half giggle and then passed over her photo. It showed a forlorn Peter/Doris in his housemaid’s uniform, with an equally tear-stained face, holding a bucket in one hand and a scrubbing brush in the other, curtseying to the Head Housemaid, who was lecturing him with a very self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"Now you see why I thought you wouldn’t believe me, after telling me your story. If it weren’t for our faces, the pictures would look really authentic, wouldn’t they?" he asked.

Helen replied. "I can only say that I had just received a very authentic thrashing on my authentic bare bum from that authentic cane and it had hurt very much and she is threatening me with a lot more if I didn’t work a lot harder".

"Yes, in that sense I agree, because, in my picture, I have scrubbed a very long authentic corridor for the second time, after making a hash of it the first time round and having had twelve authentic hard strokes from her cane, whilst wearing nothing but a rubber punishment apron". He had to explain that a black rubber apron was worn during an official punishment.

Helen then said, "It also looks as though your uniform was more uncomfortable than the clothes I had to wear. That high, tight collar looks very uncomfortable." She reached forward and lifted his chin. "Oh, yes, you still have the mark there." She giggled and added, "By the way we have both been wriggling on our chairs, so I expect we have a number of marks on another place, as well!"

Peter said, "It isn’t only the things you see which were uncomfortable. Underneath I am wearing a very tight rubber roll-on girdle, which I am sure was much tighter than would have really been worn in those days."

"Well, at least that saved you from some force of the cane, didn’t it?" asked Helen. "Not if you consider that what can be rolled on can easily be rolled up", retorted Peter.

The ‘housekeeper’ had been listening to their remarks and said, "If you think that sort of thing is the pinnacle of discomfort, just wait until you have done a day’s work as an Edwardian, or Victorian, maid in a tight corset and boots, also with a high collar. You see, the corset, like the rubber girdle, isn’t meant to be comfortable. They are intended to make you look smart and attractive in your uniform. Your comfort doesn’t come into it at all.

In fact, I have such a pleasure to look forward to tomorrow, because both of you are going to be Victorian schoolchildren and I shall be the school mistress, which means I shall be wearing a tight corset all day long."

 

"Shall I have to wear one too?" asked Helen.

"Oh no, dear. You are to be teenaged children and you will be too young to wear such a thing, but you may well be wearing other things that perhaps you might not like!" she added mysteriously.

Peter said to the ‘teacher’, "At least you can look forward to getting it off in time for the evening meal, can’t you?"

"I’m afraid not", she corrected him, "You see that from tomorrow we always wear our costumes to the evening meal and, sometimes, the day’s events are continued into the meal, so you will both probably be wearing your school pinafores to the meal tomorrow,"

"But surely Victorian schoolboys didn’t wear pinafores, did they?" asked Peter.

"Generally not, I suppose, but both the Victorians and Edwardians were great ones for punishing by ridicule and humiliation, so you can’t really rule that out. But that is not the point, for two reasons. Firstly, you wore a white plastic apron today as part of your 1930’s maid’s uniform and it seemed to fit in well, didn’t it, and it seemed to add a touch of piquancy, I thought.

"Well, we can make any rules we like for our school, partly because it is a fantasy school and partly because it is not a school for teaching young children, but for reforming them. Your parents have sent you to us because you are unruly, so we treat you in such a way that you will behave in future rather than risk being sent back again.

"The second point is that, who said you were going to be a schoolboy tomorrow? After your excellent showing as a housemaid today, you are more likely to be a girl, but, in any case, I can safely predict that, in either case, you will be wearing a school pinafore tomorrow evening. And now it is time for bed for both of you".

As a parting shot, Helen said, "And I can fairly safely predict that we are all going to bed with very sore bums every night for the rest of our time here!"

"Oh no, that’s not true", replied the ‘teacher’, "because some nights you may not get to bed at all! Now sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow in school."

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Rob Willson. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.