Chapter 4: Class Room Lesson

I was woken, as Mrs Danbury had promised, at six o’clock. It was the mustached ‘maid’ that had welcomed me on my arrival who unlocked the door to my room. “You should wash,” he said. “There is a jug and basin in the corridor. You can dispose of your pot through the sluice in the room beside the stairs. Then get dressed. Don’t take too long. It only upsets them.”

I hadn’t used the chamber pot during the night. I’d not felt the need until he mentioned it, at which point I became desperate to pee. As he left the room, leaving the door open, I lifted up my night gown and squatted over the pot, peeing as best I could with the encumbrance of the steel cage locked around my cock.

I took the warm pot out into the corridor, found the sluice, emptied the pot, cleaned it and returned it to the room. There was a towel folded on the end of my bed. I took that and went to wash.

At the far end of the corridor a jug and basin stood on a small wooden table. Beside the bowl, an old, cracked saucer held a hard green cake of soap. I poured some water into the bowl, It was cold. It was hard to get the soap to lather but I manged to wash my face and hands. It then occurred to me to think what I would do about the stubble that was sprouting on my chin as it did every morning but there was no sign of a razor and I didn’t fancy shaving in cold water anyway.

Back in my room, I climbed out of the nightgown and left it folded on my bed. I struggled into the corselette once again, padded out the bra cups and put on the uniform dress.

I’d just finished when Mrs Danbury appeared at the door. “Ah, you are ready. Good. Breakfast in the servant’s hall next to the kitchen in five minutes.” With that she disappeared leaving me to find my way back to the stairs and down to the basement.

When I got to the servant’s hall there were already three other maids there taking breakfast. Nobody seemed to be talking. A dumpy man in a mop cap and floor length dress and apron waved me to the table set a mug of tea down beside me and a bowl of what I took to be porridge. It looked grey and un-appetising. I took a spoonful of it. Thick and unsweetened, it tasted no better than it looked.

The maid with the beard and mustache whispered quietly. “I’d eat it if I were you. There will be nothing else until lunch time and if we’re unlucky then it will be more of the same.”

I took his advice, though without much enthusiasm.

Once we had finished the others picked up their bowls and mugs and headed towards the scullery, where a sink with luke-warm, greasy water was all we had for washing up, each of us dealing with our own eating things. I stacked mine alongside the others and turned around to see Mrs Danbury peering impatiently at me.

“Well,” she said, “if you are QUITE ready, perhaps you might like to join your class. Through that door, third room on the left. The others are already here.”

Inside the room there were five others all dressed identically to me, all looking equally uncomfortable with their uniforms and being in the presence of others. I suppose I felt embarrassed by being there, knowing that each of the others was thinking exactly the same thing that I was – why had I let my kinky interests get me into THIS situation.

The six of us were in the room, waiting. We had been told to stand silently with our eyes down, and hands behind our backs. It was obvious that each of us knew what was expected; all six of us were doing as we were told.

The sound of the door opening announced the arrival of our tutor.

“Well, class,” she announced, “look up and take your seats, please.”

Out tutor turned out to be a girl hardly more than seventeen years old, I would guess. Slim and with dark frizzy hair, she was dressed in a maid’s uniform like our own but in black. The uniform might have been similar but she wore it with confidence unlike our own embarrassed, diffident, behaviour. It also fitted her rather better than did any of ours. The way that the black dress revealed the shape beneath it left me wincing as my cock twitched against the solid steel that was intended to suppress thoughts like those that our tutor’s appearance was giving rise to. I bit my lip in an attempt to distract myself but only succeeded in attracting her attention. The smile she gave me was, I suppose, intended to put me at my ease. It only made my problem more acute.

There were three rows of two seats, each with a small school desk.

“Take the two front rows,” our tutor instructed. “I want you paying attention.”

Five of us did as she asked. The sixth, a grey-haired, slim man, hung back.

“Is there some problem?” our tutor asked. “Bryony, isn’t it?”

“Brian.”

“Bryony is the name we use here. Please don’t be difficult. I know that was explained to you.”

Reluctantly, Brian, or Bryony, joined us.

“Thank you,” our tutor said. “Now, I am Miss Carson. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Carson,” we chorused, only Bryony hanging back a little.

“Very good. Before we start, please sit in a more lady-like manner. Knees together, backs straight, ankles side by side, hands together on the desk.” She scanned the six of us. “Well done. Good.”

I looked to one side at the man sitting next to me. He was a little older than me, I guessed, and rather overweight. He was balding, something that made his maid’s cap look even more ridiculous than might otherwise have been the case.