Episode 1: In The Dining Hall

I had to go to dinner with Cissy, and it sucked. If I refused, I'd be punished, and besides I was starving, but why couldn't my maids just bring me something in my room and leave me in peace to eat it? Now I had to get dressed in a stupid slutty dress, and wear a push-up bra that would practically leave welts, and sit in front of the vanity mirror looking at a face that wasn't really mine while a maid did my makeup and hair and even my nails. It took more than an hour, plus the time in the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth and stuff.

Class had been hell, even though it wasn't Posture Class, just Cosmetics, but I'd been asked a question and hadn't known the answer and the other girls all looked at me like I was a retard. If I could have gotten any one of them alone, I would have made her sorry, but of course that would never happen. The duty Trainers watched us like hawks.

Cissy came for me at six, perfectly punctual, and perfectly dressed and perfectly polite and perfectly proper, and I perfectly fucking hated her. She said, "Good Evening, Pet. You look very nice in your new dress." 'It's not my dress and you only think I look very nice because of what the maids did to me, so let's just get dinner over with and never mind the insincere compliments, ' I thought. "Good Evening, Cissy. Thank you, Cissy," I said. I was too tired and too hungry to risk being punished tonight, and I took some cheer from the fact that we were eating in the dining hall, not Cissy's suite, so I might not have to have sex with her afterward. She offered me her arm and I put my hand on it, and she thanked my night maid, who curtsied. I never bothered with any pleasantries where the maids were concerned, after all they were just hired help and their main function was to rag me and spy on me. Although they seemed to be compassionate toward me sometimes, they were clearly on the House's side, so I detested them. On the way downstairs, Cissy asked how my day had gone as she drifted along elegantly like she'd been born in those heels, and I told her the truth, just to see if she would be irritated.

"I'm sorry, Pet," she said with aggravating sympathy. "Are you sure you didn't know the answer?"

Caught off guard, I answered honestly again, but I couldn't help feeling ashamed. "I read it, but I didn't remember until after she told me," I replied sullenly, not meeting her eyes.

"Please don't feel badly. Mademoiselle Kelly told me at tea this afternoon that you have shown an improvement in Cosmetics Class, and I'm sure you simply had a lapse of memory."

Somehow that bothered me more than if she had been angry. "Cissy, when are you going to realize that I really am as stupid as everybody thinks? I never know the answers, and I think the classes are pointless anyway. I'm not trying to make you mad at me, I'm just being honest. If I have to go through this training, why can't I learn to do something useful? I know the House has classes in all kinds of things. Why can't I take History, or Cuisine or Art, or something?"

"I'm sure you know the answer to that, Pet," she said firmly. "You are being trained to become a House girl, and although I am not giving you a choice of classes, I have told you that I will allow you electives when you are further along. First you must show me that you can do well in these more essential disciplines. You cannot be a House girl if you don't understand Cosmetics. Or Etiquette, or Posture, or Couture. It's that simple." She gave me that Cissy look of totally inflexible authority. The Ownership Look, I called it. I almost, almost snapped back at her. The obvious response was that a House girl was a prostitute and I didn't want to be one, and I never would be. But by then I would have been raising my voice and arguing with her and although she would never argue back, I was sure to wind up being punished. I had promised myself that I would get through dinner without that tonight. I ground my teeth and shut up.

"Also, Pet, I want you to stop saying that you are stupid. It isn't true," she added, just to make sure she had the last word. I had the last word in my mind, and it had four letters.

By the time we got to the dining hall, my feet were killing me. I had different shoes for just about every outfit I wore, and they all gave me blisters in different places. The heels were too high, the straps were too tight and some of them were mules, and didn't even have straps so I had to keep them on my feet by scrunching my toes. I saw it as a subtle form of torture designed to make me docile and helpless. And my bra hurt too, and so did my back, because my tits were too big. WAY too big, and they bothered me all the time. I couldn't sleep in certain positions, I couldn't move quickly without them swinging or bouncing and looking really dumb, and they got in the way of everything I did and made me even more awkward than I already was, and they were very sensitive and tender, especially my nipples. It was totally, maddeningly unfair. The House had no right to change my body. A girl's body should belong to her, and nobody else.

Now my body belonged to Cissy. But I had sworn my mind never would.

Cissy held a chair out for me, and I sat down with relief. She hesitated for just a second, and I said, "Thank you, Cissy." Then she went around to her own seat and arranged herself with perfect grace. She picked up her napkin and put it in her lap, and I copied her, wondering what I would be allowed to have. The dining hall wasn't really a hall, like a big open space. It had a lot of columns and archways and potted plants and other stuff that kind of divided it into little rooms, so it seemed more private. The walls were white stucco and the floor was beautiful stone tile, and the soft indirect lighting made it feel very comfortable. I could see two other tables from where I was, and there were couples at both of them, House girls and their Ladies. They all gave Cissy respectful glances, and she smiled at them regally.