Claiming Katy Ch. 01

[Author's note: This story was originally posted in "Lesbian Sex", but due to the heavy sadomasochistic themes of the series, I have moved it to "BDSM". As stated in the story itself, this episode has no strong BDSM themes, but subsequent episodes are much harder.]

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--Dr Isabella Pacetti's Notes:

I have much to get through, so I shall keep my preamble short. Sophie advises that I use first-person narratives to tell this story, and who am I to argue? I have edited and assembled the Statements (I call them that to maintain a veneer of academic professionalism), so I offer my apologies to readers and subjects alike for any errors of style or grammar which I may have introduced.

This is a story about some remarkable women and their extraordinary psychologies. It is a story of submission, sadism, fetish and affection. Everyone who features is a grown woman: an intelligent and consenting adult in pursuit of her own desires, however dark and reckless they may be. This may not seem important at the beginning, but the relevance will be clear by the end.

If you find this first chapter lacking in "real action" (as Sophie would crassly express it) you may find subsequent chapters more to your taste.

I am grateful to Sophie. I know she has found it difficult to reveal such intimate detail. Her relationship with Katy is central to everything of course, so I begin with their meeting. Sophie complained that this event was weeks before the story "got juicy", but I think she is also concerned that it reveals more than she would like about herself.

--Sophie's Statement:

She was obviously not more than twenty, with short dark hair which was pulled back from her face and held to some shape by bobby pins. Her dress was short, black and cut plainly. It had short sleeves with white cuffs and it looked like a modern maid's uniform, with a matching white apron. But it looked odd in a way I couldn't pin down straight away. Her skin was pale, illuminated brilliantly as the sun hit her. She stood in the doorway, blinked her large brown eyes at the blue sky, and at me, and then smiled politely.

"Hello. Are you Ms Burton?" she asked.

"That's right. Here for the interview. Am I a little early?"

"Oh no, I don't think so. I'm so sorry if I kept you waiting, I was dressing." She gave a pretty little nervous laugh, then looked embarrassed and gestured for me to enter. "Please come in. Mrs Alderney will see you straight away."

As I stepped inside, I looked down. The hem of her dress reached barely below the top of her thighs and her legs were naked down to her toes. She was quite a small figure, but her legs were long and supple, and she had elegant little feet. Her toes were soft and attractively splayed and I would have sworn she had never squeezed them into a shoe in her life. I never had much of a thing about feet, but these were pretty and I must have been staring.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," she said, looking down with horror. "I forgot my shoes. Mrs Alderney doesn't mind me not wearing them, but I... I'm sorry I swore, I wasn't..." She flapped her hands desperately and then took a moment to very deliberately calm down. She had beautifully mobile, expressive features, and her eyes darted anxiously to and from my face. "I'm sorry. We haven't had anyone else working here before. This is all new to me. Um, my name's Katy. I'm the maid."

Katy offered her hand -- soft and slim -- and I shook it and smiled. I immediately liked her.

"Hello Katy. Listen, don't worry, it's fine. This is new to me too." I said all that sincerely, but I couldn't resist grinning and adding: "Especially the swearing barefoot maid."

She blushed and tilted her head with an apologetic smile, and then asked me to follow her.

I watched those legs as I walked down the hallway behind her, and I realised what was odd about the uniform: it was a costume. It made her look kinky.

--Dr Pacetti's Notes:

Sophie again hesitated to dwell on her first meeting with Mrs Alderney, convinced that this encounter was even less interesting. But again, Sophie's response to the episode -- when she was encouraged to be commendably frank -- is interesting.

--Sophie's Statement:

The interview took place in her office, a large downstairs room which had perhaps once been a dining room, and the room where we would later spend most of our working days together.

It was a well-lit, airy room and my first impression of Mrs Alderney was of her sitting behind her desk. The sunlight behind her made a halo of her auburn hair. The image she presented was that of a headmistress. All of her clothes were modern but they contrived to look Victorian. Narrow spectacles perched on her nose like half-moons. Her blouse collar was high at her throat, and her suit was dark and sombre. That auburn hair was gathered back in bun. She pushed herself a little way back from the desk and I immediately knew she was wearing silk stockings: the swish of her thighs -- one against the other as she crossed her legs -- was almost tactile.

She didn't stand and she didn't offer me a seat. I had to stand in front of her desk as though I was a naughty pupil. I didn't mind that, I'm not easily intimidated. But I had to work hard not to laugh at her. She wore too much make-up and it aged her, and I guessed she was maybe in her forties. But the make-up also hid her features. For a long time I didn't know what her face really looked like, only how she chose to paint it. Perhaps this empowered her, but it also felt a little sad, because despite it she was certainly handsome.

She proceeded to conduct the interview like this, with me standing and her frowning over steepled fingers. I can honestly say that was one of the easiest interviews of my life, regardless of her manner. She had almost no questions about my aptitude for the job (secretarial and editorial work, nothing unusual) and said I came highly recommended. Instead she dwelt on my personal life. This wasn't totally unreasonable as the role was residential, and I would be moving into her house, but she wanted to know a little more than I was willing to tell about my love life. I satisfied her (if that's the word) by telling her I was unmarried, not currently seeing anyone and free to move in immediately.

Dr Pacetti wants me to admit that by the end of the interview I was -- to put it bluntly -- feeling horny. Katy and her strangely kinky uniform, Mrs Alderney and her costume, her strictness... it was a game that appealed to me. I didn't mind being cast as the naughty schoolgirl in her scene, but she was going to have a fight on her hands if she tried to keep it up, and even that battle appealed to me.

Apparently "horny" isn't good enough for la dottoressa, and she wants more specifics. There is a feeling I get when everything seems to align to please me. It's an intoxicating feeling and makes me feel alert and energised. I become supremely aware of my body. I have no illusions about my appearance, and since the doctor wants intimate honesty I will admit I know I'm attractive. I'm tall, subtly athletic, with grey eyes, blonde hair, and strong lips. In those intoxicated moments, I allow myself to feel... power comes into it, but the best word I can think of is simply this: "sexual". It was all in my head but it filled me with confidence and even a little recklessness.

This is one of the reasons the interview concluded very quickly, with Mrs Alderney offering me the job and asking me to move in as soon as possible. I now know there were other reasons.

For now, I went back to my apartment, collected enough things to see me through a few days, and returned to Mrs Alderney's with a suitcase of clothes and a cardboard box with cosmetics & assorted junk.

This gave me time to cool off a bit, so that when Katy answered the door, and she still hadn't remembered her shoes, I just grinned at her.

"Let me take your things. I'll show you to your room."

I protested, but Katy insisted on taking the box and the case. She was too small to safely carry both up the stairs, but she tried nonetheless. She carried the case flat in her arms, and balanced the box on top, right in front of her face. She staggered under the weight and walked blind to the foot of the stairs. It was ridiculous and I said so.

"No, this is what I do," she said. "Madame wouldn't be happy if she knew I'd let you do my work."

I frowned and shook my head. "No Katy, that's silly. You'll hurt yourself. Or you'll hurt my luggage. I'll help."

I managed to place my hands beneath the case so that I was supporting some of the weight, and in this foolish position we slowly climbed the stairs. Our faces were hidden from each other, so I watched her delicate toes as they felt each step carefully.

"Why did you call her 'Madame'? You pronounce it like -- I don't know -- like you're French."

"No, no. That's just what she has me call her. It's pretty though, isn't it? Do you think she might be French?"

She couldn't see my brow crease in confusion. "I don't... I didn't notice any accent." In fact, Mrs Alderney spoke in an impossibly cut-glass upper class tone. "And, I mean, she only writes her novels in English, doesn't she? Don't you know?"

Katy grunted as she reached the top of the stairs. She sounded distant when she spoke, her erratic boldness replaced by something softer and more thoughtful.

"No. I didn't know it was a French word... I don't really know any languages."

If Katy had been able to see me, I may not have made the face I did.

"No but... I mean, have you spoken about that? Asked her?" We were shuffling along the second landing now, and I could see the top of Katy's head, not looking where she was going, staring straight at the box in front of her face.

"I don't like to pry," she said. "If it was my business she'd tell me." There was something deeply sad about this phrase, yet it was said with a certain quiet pride. "I'm sure you could ask her though."

I thought for a moment. "Are you afraid of her?"

"That's not what I meant. It's not my place. I'm... just her maid."

Clearly, I thought, the old Starchy School Mistress act had worked on Katy. And what had merely made me playfully frisky, seemed to make her unhappy.

--Dr Pacetti's Notes:

I have certain standard techniques which I employ to coax details from my clients when they are hesitant to be as forthcoming as necessary. I will not detail them here, because I suspect they will become apparent in the course of events. Suffice to say we used those techniques to record Sophie's account of that first night in her new room in Mrs Alderney's house, which she gave reluctantly and with much complaint.

--Sophie's Statement:

These are the things Dr Pacetti wants me to admit.

The second storey of the house was Mrs Alderney's living quarters. The third -- the top floor -- was mine. There was an attic room above, and that was Katy's. My bedroom was large but quite dark, with a low ceiling and small windows. But there was a broad bed and a mismatched collection of furniture which was more than enough to accommodate my clothes. I unpacked that evening and felt like a student again. I had enough of my own things to feel I was here for a while, but not enough to feel the space was mine. It was like the old house I had shared in my late teens, and I imagined the place strewn with ashtrays, bottles and underwear.

Okay, that wasn't what the doctor wants me to admit. It's this:

I imagined Tara, my flatmate from those student days, perched on the windowsill, sipping wine from the bottle. I imagined her naked -- or rather, I remembered her -- framed in the window and gazing out, waiting for someone to see her. I remembered her looking back towards me to see if I was watching her.

The memories intruded: how sometimes we would spend whole evenings that way. I would read, or watch TV, or even go out with friends. And I would tell Tara to sit or stand in the window, naked, waiting for me. And she never refused.

In my new room in Mrs Alderney's house, the memories intruded and I felt ashamed and agitated. I was restless when I went to bed, and lay awake for a long time. The strangeness of my new circumstances, coupled with my unwelcome recollections made all of my confidence drain away, and my thoughts took a negative turn, as they do sometimes when I'm alone.

I haven't described one of the details of the interview, and the doctor thinks it's important.

"And when would you need me to start?" I had asked.

"Immediately if possible. I would also like you to move in as soon as possible, though I realise it's short notice."

"I mean... I could move in today. That wouldn't be a problem."

Mrs Alderney looked surprised. "I assumed you would want to discuss it with your partner."

I was startled and a little angry. I remained outwardly calm. "No, I don't currently have a partner."

And now, in the night, this gnawed at me:

She assumed you had a partner. She assumed you couldn't just drop everything and move in overnight. Why wouldn't she? She assumed you didn't live alone in a horrible little flat with two weeks notice on the contract. She says you came highly recommended, so someone has obviously given a good reference, though God knows who...

I fell asleep in the embrace of humiliation and self-loathing. It was so familiar now it was comforting.

That's what Bella Pacetti wanted me to admit.

Also, the fact that I set my alarm too early the following morning. I had forgotten that my daily commute was now precisely two flights of stairs.

--

The bathroom had originally been a wholly separate room, but a connecting door had been put in. Katy had cleaned it thoroughly and stocked it with towels. There was a huge bath with antique taps. I began to fill it and the pipes growled and banged as the hot water flowed. I stood naked in the rising steam and scrutinised myself in the mirror. As the glass clouded I saw that words were appearing. Someone (Katy, I later confirmed) had written careful, invisible letters with her finger while the glass was dry and now, where she had written, the steam was not condensing.

WELCOME MS. BURTON

A silly, friendly little gesture, but it lifted my mood hugely. I smiled and cleaned the mirror.

--Dr Pacetti's Notes:

At this point I know I would risk losing the reader's good will if I recounted the following weeks day by day. Suffice to say the weeks passed, Sophie settled easily into her job, and became acquainted with the women with whom she now shared a home.

It may be of interest that Mrs Alderney, a widow, was the successful author Marie Alderney, whom some readers may know as a writer of erotic historical fiction. Other readers may remember the story of her marriage, which gained a brief flurry of notoriety in some of the more judgemental newspapers. One of the first legally recognised gay marriages in Britain, it ended all too soon with the death of her wife.

All sorts of innuendo-laden, dog-whistle think-pieces were published, but evidently Sophie missed them. Indeed, Sophie had little to say about Mrs Alderney at all when recounting this period, except to note that she remained aloof and distant. She was courteous and well-mannered in her starchy way, but Sophie felt no desire to learn more about her.

Sophie did not enjoy Mrs Alderney's writing, and found her proof-reading tasks quite arduous and a little embarrassing. The current novel was about a gypsy rogue who came into the lives of two sisters of noble birth, with predictably vigorous and complicated results.

Mrs Alderney was perhaps even cooler toward Katy, with whom she maintained a strangely formal relationship. Sophie found Katy much more interesting, and liked her more and more each day.

Sophie is at pains to make it clear she did not have any romantic or sexual intentions toward Katy. The term she used was "affection". However, it is worth noting that Sophie also admitted the girl was a sort of perk of the job: "That cute girl, with her cute voice and cute toes, was always going to make the house a nicer place to work."

Initially, Sophie ate her meals alone in the kitchen, although Katy always prepared them for her. Sophie would thank her and Katy would smile and then excuse herself and scuttle out. Indeed, while Sophie ate, Katy continuously bustled in and out of the kitchen, apparently performing an endless list of errands and chores, and shyly apologising each time, until it became a joke which they shared.

Even given the size and age of the house, Sophie wondered what could possibly be occupying her so continuously. She decided that the girl was simply inefficient, and -- yes -- erratic. She felt dreadful for thinking it, but she could not get past the fact that Katy showed more diligence than initiative.

She found her enormously likeable, and warmed to her more every time she pattered through the room.

--Sophie's Statement:

I continued to eat my meals in the kitchen, and encouraged Katy to eat with me, although she ate very little considering how much energy she expended. She was shy at first, and I tried a few topics of conversation before Katy started talking easily. She wanted to talk about my work.

"I was no good at school," she said,with that apologetic smile. "I was always pretty stupid so I never worked hard."

"Don't say that," I said, unable to bear the sincerity in her voice, "you're not stupid."

"I was," she said earnestly. She leaned her chest against the table and stretched her white willowy arms across the tabletop. She stroked her left arm with the fingertips of her right hand. This seemed to absorb her. "Really, Madame's taught me a lot. But anyway, I'm not good with reading and writing. I'd like to work with Madame. You know, share in her work."

"I hope you're not jealous. It's not that exciting, you know."

Katy smiled, blushing. "No, I'm not jealous. I'm really happy you're here." Those large eyes glanced anxiously at me for a moment (wondering if I was looking at her) before looking away. Her hands retreated a little and her fingers knotted together.

I felt myself blushing. "Have you read her books though? They're quite... you know..."

Katy grinned and folded her arms. "I know. I've sort of read them. I didn't really follow them, but I did read those bits."

"Dirty girl!" I laughed and she shrugged, grinning and looking at me directly. I asked "And what do you think?"

"They're... It was weird to imagine her writing them. I mean it's interesting to imagine her voice..." She suddenly sat back and looked down at her lap.

Oh, I see, I thought. You find that interesting, do you?

She looked embarrassed so I didn't push that point.

"I looked her up online. She's English as far as I can tell, but I didn't find much. I think 'Madame' is just a formality. And it is pretty. I couldn't find much about her. What can you tell me?"

Katy just shook her head. She was avoiding eye contact again. She didn't want to talk. She looked utterly ashamed.

"How old do you think she is?" I whispered conspiratorially. "Fifties? All that make-up, it's hard to tell."

Katy shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I think she's beautiful."

She wasn't even trying to hide it now. Poor girl. What a strange person to build a crush upon.

"Sorry, that was rude of me. We'll talk about something else."

--Dr Pacetti's Notes:

Friendship between Sophie and Katy grew. They would talk at length during meals and in the evening. Sophie learned about Katy's household chores, which Katy described with genuinely funny self-deprecating humour.

Katy explained she had been to college briefly to study music (something she could talk about at great length), but had dropped out for reasons she didn't want to discuss. There seemed to be a number of things she didn't want to discuss, including her love-life and Mrs Alderney. But for that matter, Sophie was similarly reticent about her own personal romantic history.