EXTRACT FOR
Punished by the Mistress
(Fiaine Cluiun)

Susan trembled as she hurried to obey the Mistress's orders to remove all traces of what had occurred between them. Did the older woman fear the Master would find out? Susan dismissed the idea immediately. Nothing about how the Mistress acted suggested that this new order was based on a fear of discovery. No, more likely she simply wanted Susan and the reminder of what had happened, cleaned away the same as she would with dirty bathwater, or clothes in need of cleaning.

Besides, whatever she commanded Susan to do, no matter how embarrassing, painful or humiliating it might be, Susan knew she had to comply. Cleaning herself and the hairbrush off wasn't such a difficult task but though the Mistress was no longer in the room, having left to take care of something in another part of the suite, Susan was all too aware that the older woman could return at any moment. The last thing she needed was to find herself facing more punishments because the Mistress decided her maid was being deliberately slow.

With only cold water and a cloth she did her best to wash herself off, not only from the way the Mistress had used her, but the time with Henry. Had that only been a few hours ago? She wanted to find a clock but didn't dare risk it. There had to be one somewhere in the suite and she'd be needed for dinner before much longer. 

At least, for as long as she was serving the Mistress, she'd be safe from further reprimands from Cook. The Mistress wouldn't lie if asked if Susan had been under her direction and no one was foolish enough to claim they were in service with one of the family if they hadn't been.

Her thoughts drifted to the way the Mistress had looked and Susan shivered. There was no denying she was a beautiful woman, with soft sensual lips that could harden in a second, turning from deliciously tempting to a cruel, slashing line faster than Susan could keep track of.

She'd never thought of a woman's lips as sensual until today, but now she couldn't deny the fact she wanted to touch them, taste them, and yes, even kiss them. Would they feel the same as Henry's? Or the other young men she'd stolen kisses from in the past?

Susan pulled on her clothing once she'd made herself as clean as she could. Hot baths were a weekly occurrence for all of the servants, normally early on Sunday so they would be presentable for the obligatory church service. Attending such things was commonplace for those working on an estate or great house, and like many she'd grown up attending them. Just as she'd learned her letters and numbers along with the others in the village. It was all a part of life for one of her lowly status.

Yet now she couldn't help but wonder how people like the Mistress could stand and pray when they were guilty of such acts? Did it not matter when it involved one such as herself?  

Susan pushed the unwanted thoughts aside as she fastened her dress in place before tying the apron. It was smudged from her work before the Mistress had commanded her attention. Once she returned to the kitchen, she'd change her apron long before she might find herself in trouble. There were strict rules concerning appearance for all the servants. 

She finished dressing and took care of the hairbrush, making certain every trace of her body's essence was cleansed from the silver handle before daring to return it to the dressing table. Only then, with her hair tucked back away beneath the white cap, and only a few strands loose at the nap of her neck. Without the chance to look in a mirror she couldn't say for certain if anything was out of place and she'd barely finished when the Mistress made an appearance.

Susan dipped a quick curtsy and folded her hands in front of her body, head slightly bowed, gaze lowered. "Is there anything I may do for you, ma'am?" 

"Trying to avoid your other duties, girl?"

"No, ma'am. Please forgive me if I gave such an impression. I merely wish to be of service."

The older woman laughed, the sound cold and dark. "No, be off with you. There's more than enough work to keep you busy. Tonight we have guests. Go, get out of my sight."

Susan fled, not daring to risk a moment where she might catch a better look at the Mistress's face, not when she knew there would be accusations of laziness, or worse. With the door closed behind her, she hurried through the hallway to the servant's staircase. The main stairs, which she'd been forced to use when the Mistress had demanded she follow her upstairs, were off limits to servants unless the Cook or Mr. Smith, the butler allowed it, or a servant was under the direction of one of the family. 

"Where have you been? The Butler's been looking for you." With wide blue eyes and a spill of white-blond hair that had been carefully braided, coiled and tucked up under the cap, Wendy shifted from foot to foot on the stairs. "He's right angry he is."

"I was serving the Mistress, so if he's got a problem with that maybe he should take it up with the Mistress." Susan lifted her chin. Had Wendy come in search of her, or had the meeting on the stairs been pure chance? 

"No need to take it out on me. I'm not the one who's up in arms about lazy maids." Wendy wrapped her arms around her body and stepped aside. "I only said something because I don't want to see you beaten by Cook again, or worse, Mr. Smith."

"I'm sorry." She paused on the stairs and rested a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "Didn't mean to snap at you."

No one wanted Mr. Smith to be the one wielding the strap. And with him it was always the heavy piece of leather he kept hung in the Butler's Parlor. She'd avoided it all but once since entering service, and it was commonplace for the maids, valets, and grooms to find themselves called into his parlor on Saturday evening so they might be free to enter church on Sunday without the weight of their household sins still clinging to them. 

That one meeting with the strap had been more than enough for Susan.

"It's alright, and if you've been working for the Mistress, he'll have no reason to yell at you."

Reason no, but it wouldn't stop the man from raising his voice to chastise her if he felt slighted in any way. "Are you going to get in trouble for coming to find me?"

"No, he sent me off to get the upstairs fires laid. Right angry he was when he was told you'd left your tools by the servant's door instead of bringing them below stairs like you're meant to." Wendy lifted the bucket, hand broom, and small ash scoop. 

"Not like I had any other choice when the Mistress called me away." She'd had no choice in the matter. If one of the family gave you an order, you followed it or you were quickly cast out of the estate. Add in the small detail of what the Mistress had threatened her with, and Susan truly had no other option but to obey. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Can't say I was doing anything that he hadn't sent me to do. And if asked I can honestly say I saw you come in from this floor.  Though he'd need to talk to the Mistress if he wants to check."

The odds Mr. Smith would waste the Mistress's time and attempt to demand answers from her. Still, Susan knew it didn't mean that the Butler wouldn't find another reason to punish her. Perhaps not today or even tomorrow, but he'd been known to watch the maids especially for no good reason than to take his anger out on their bare bottoms. 

Well, there was nothing she could do about it beyond reporting to Mr. Smith and the sooner she got that part of her day over and done with, the easier the rest of her day would be.