Learning His Place - Part Nine by Molly Sands

Author:Molly Sands [Sands, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Venus
Published: 2022-11-03T04:00:00+00:00

IN THE MORNING, Laura didn’t call Philip until after eleven and it was only to tell him his services wouldn’t be required that day. Absurdly he experienced this news as a crushing disappointment. Serving as a slave in his rival’s grand house would be preferable to the lonely hell of waiting on his wife’s whim. But what could he do? He lacked the strength to call her back or drive to John’s house and insist she return home with him. The panties he was wearing under his jeans were a continual reminder of his lowly status, and he endeavoured to accept his defeat. There wasn’t much housework to do, but he vacuumed and put on a wash, and then went to his study and tried to write but, once again, his mind was clouded with disturbingly depraved images of torment and surrender, and he gave up the attempt.

Turning to books, he reread two of his favourite short stories, as had become his habit, Thomas Mann’s ‘Little Herr Friedmann’ and Stefan Zweig’s ‘The Star Above The Trees.’ Once again, as on countless times before, their clear-eyed, beautifully written depictions of submissive men in thrall to unreachable women, eased his troubled soul. For all the bleakness of the stories — both tales ended with the death of their male protagonists, broken by love for their uncaring goddesses — Philip found comfort in their honesty and power, and in the knowledge that others shared his sad, sickly sexuality.

At least he wasn’t alone.

Both toughened and re-assured by the stories, he got through the rest of the day, but by evening, when Laura still hadn’t called, he couldn’t resist the lure of dressing in his maid’s frock and apron. Thus attired, he felt more able to accept his submissive desires. Loving the sound of his heels on the hall and kitchen floors and the feel of his dress and slip moving against his nylon-sheathed legs, he clipped back and forth, a tremblingly happy little bird in his gilded cage. Every time he crossed the hall, he stopped to practise his curtsey in the mirror, both thrilled and horrified by his ridiculous reflection. More and more he imagined it was John Garra he was curtsying to, the man who had taken his wife from him. The thought brought him excruciating pain and dizzying delight. What a trap Laura had caught him in. Or was it a trap of his own making? Lost in a rapture of submission, he couldn’t begin to think rationally, and he gave in to the exquisitely shame-filled arousal he found in dressing and working as his absent wife’s maid.

But then, at just after ten o’clock, he received a text from Laura that read, ‘I’ve left something for you at the back-door. Come and get it. Madam L x’

He thought about putting an overcoat over his maid’s uniform and driving to Carlyn Cottage like that. Maybe it would amuse Laura if he presented himself as her maid, and then she might take pity on him and invite him inside to play a bigger part in her life, if only as a lowly maidservant.

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