Like every morning, Beatrice, who has donned her French maid’s uniform, goes to the small sitting room to take orders from her mistress.

- Beatrice, you are not to take small steps only in my presence and to please me, but at all times, even if I am not around, do you understand?

- Yes, Madam.

- Well, if you understand, do so. Blandine tells me that you frequently tend to “forget”.

- [Muttering] Oh, that one, she’s really rubbing me up the wrong way.

- Did you say something, Beatrice?

- No, Madam.

- I thought you did [Smile]. Beatrice, when I speak to you, I want you to stand dead straight in front of me, your legs together, your arms along your body and your eyes down. Don’t forget to throw out your chest and to keep your buttocks jutting.

- Yes, Madam

- Show me how you are dressed.

Lady Alexandra carefully inspects her maid’s uniform. She walks around the girl, hitches her skirt back and front to check that she is indeed wearing the clothes she was given, that nothing is missing and that no detail has been overlooked (stockings pulled tight, their seams straight, suspenders properly positioned, immaculate headdress, apron loops neatly placed…)

- Have you seen the hem of your apron, it’s all creased. You will at once put on another and iron that one. I won’t tell you twice!

- Yes, Madam.

- And what’s more, it seems you have put on some perfume?

- Just a whiff of eau de toilette, Madam.

- Beatrice, I told you the day you arrived that there is to be no makeup, no perfume, no eau de toilette, nothing. Quite simply, nothing! I alone shall look after your makeup, in my own way and when I see fit.

- Yes, Madam.

- Raise your arms! That’s just what I feared, you have done nothing, and you seem to think you can remain like this, hairy as a monkey? Do you think this a pleasant sight?

- No, Madam.

- I want you to shave completely, do you hear, completely, arms, legs, sex, everything. And watch out, I’ll check and if need be, I’ll shave you myself or rather, no, just to shame you, I’ll have you shaved by George. I’m sure he’d be delighted!

- Oh no, Madam, I’d rather do it myself.

- I warn you, Beatrice, you will be closely examined every morning before starting your work and beware if your appearance is not impeccable!

- Yes, Madam.

- Now, let’s turn to your work. To start with, Blandine will show you what there is to do. Afterwards, you can both agree on how to organize things. I want no trouble whatsoever between the two of you.

- Yes, Madam.

- I wish my house to be spotless, from the cellar to the loft. The furniture and the floors must shine. The silver and glassware must be immaculate. Meals are to be served on time, linen washed and ironed, clothes neatly tidied away, beds clean and well made, bathrooms scrubbed, rooms aired, windows stainless…

- Yes, Madam

- To begin with, polish the legs of this armchair with a rag. [The maid, believing it’s the right thing to do, half-kneels to be at the proper height]. Not like that, Beatrice! Keep your legs straight and bend only the top of your body. Yes, I know, it’s tiring, but you’ll get used to it and it’s so much nicer to watch!

Leaning forwards, the maid offers an unhindered view of her naked thighs, above her black stockings, and of the firm outline of her shapely buttocks.

- Did you think of cleaning the top of the picture frames?

- No, Madam, they’re too high and you can’t see the top!

- Well, precisely, that’s just what we shall see. I give orders here, so please climb on this fine stool at once!

The maid climbs on the highest steps, displaying the skimpy remains of her intimacy. Lady Alexandra silently imagines how she can take advantage of the girl’s situation when future guests are present.

- [Beatrice, pointing at the picture she is dusting] Who’s this fat lump of a woman on the picture?

- Shut up, you impertinent brat, and spare me your remarks! A servant does not speak that way and waits until she is spoken to!

- Yes, Madam.

- Instead of talking nonsense, check for dust under the chest of drawers, do you think it’s up to me to remove it?

- No, Madam.

- Well then, get down to it, lazy girl!

First kneeling, then on all fours, Beatrice squeezes in under the piece of furniture to reach its most distant corners. In that position, she cannot help displaying her appetizing cleavage, while behind, the edge of her underpants is caught tight between her buttocks.

- Continue, lean forwards, there’s still some dust.

- There, Madam.

- What about the top?

- It’s already been done, Madam.

- Are you sure?

Lady Alexandra stands up, removes a white glove from a drawer in her desk, slips it ceremoniously onto her right hand, carefully fitting each finger, then moves towards the cherry-wood chest of drawers. Two silver chandeliers stand on top of it. Beatrice, frightened, keeps her eyes on that merciless finger, that fatal instrument, meticulously exploring the surface of the chest, picking up each object. Having completed her examination, the mistress of the house turns around slowly and, triumphantly, waves her white finger, coated in dust.

- Is that what you mean by cleaning thoroughly?

- But Madam, it was Blandine’s job!

- Lazy and a liar on top of it, you really disappoint me, you know. Come here, I’ll cure you from the nasty habit of telling tales!

Lady Alexandra places a chair in the centre of the room and orders her servant to lean over the back of it. Collecting four red leather bracelets from a box, she ties the girls’ ankles to the legs of the chair, at the back, and her wrists to the bars, in front. The height of the chair forces the maid to keep her legs straight and the angle of her bust forces her buttocks to jut outwards. The mistress of the house hitches the back of Beatrice’s skirt as high as possible and inserts the hem under the strings of her apron.

- You still insist it’s Blandine’s fault? [Without awaiting the servant’s answer, she pulls her knickers down sharply].

- Oh no, Madam, I apologize, Madam, I lied to you.

- Liars are flogged, that’s all they deserve! Spread your thighs!

Sliding her hand in from behind, Lady Alexandra feels the girl’s thighs, damp with fear. Excited, she carefully unfolds the swollen little sex and strokes it at length with the tip of her long fingers.

- Oh no, Madam, stop, I beg you!

The mistress of the house grabs a gag and forces it into the maid’s mouth, then, with a large smile, she picks up the flogger that George, the butler, who has just appeared out of nowhere, proffers on a tray, his eyes bright.

- It’s for your own good, my pet, one day, you’ll thank me.