Chapter 13: Graduation

The rest of the afternoon’s classes returned to familiar ground. Mrs Danbury and Miss Carson went back to some of the topics they had covered on the first morning reviewing our posture and making sure we knew how to stand and wait when entering a room and so forth. We were allowed to keep our black uniforms on, which felt like a great privilege.

One session was dedicated to practicing curtsying. Mrs Danbury had brought another mannequin figure into the servant’s hall and each of us were required to walk up and curtsy to it while she critiqued our performance.

“No, Meakin bend you leg and raise the hem of your skirt at the same time. And lower your head. It’s supposed to be a sign of respect, of acceptance of your lower status. You’re not supposed to be grinning like some idiot. Bryony? Heavens sake! That was even worse!”

She kept us at it for over an hour before she decided that she was satisfied that we could reproduce what we had learned when we got back to wherever we had come from.

Finally though we were told that we had completed our first course and that we could leave.

Mrs Danbury waited while we undressed and returned our uniforms and our feminising underwear. Only then did she unlock each of the cupboards that held our clothes. Nothing was said about the metal cage that was locked about my cock. “Excuse me,” I asked pointing to my crotch, “can I have the key for this, please?”

“Ah, I should have explained.” Mrs Danbury looked apologetic for a moment. “We’ll send the key back with a report of how you’ve done on the course to...” she looked down and consulted her clipboard, “ah, ... Suzanne and she’ll decide if she wants to carry on using it or not. Then when you come back on any subsequent course you’ll have the appropriate equipment. All right?”

It wasn’t all right but I wasn’t going to say so. The six of us got dressed. I exchanged the wire rimmed round-lens spectacles for my own. Once we were ready made our way to the front door. I’d decided that I wasn’t going to call a taxi to pick me up from Miss Matilda’s. It was better to walk for a few blocks, I thought. The last thing I needed after the last three days was a smart-arsed taxi driver who had worked out what went on in the old house. Even so, I can’t pretend that I was other than relieved that it was time to turn my back on Miss Matilda’s school and go back home.

It was only when I got half way home that I realised that I was still wearing the necklace with the name “Andrea” under my shirt collar.