Trained To Be A Better Wife — At Roissy (F/F, D/s, BD, Consensual?) By Victorianshelly2 49 F =============================================================================== For just a few lucky women, there are a few true men of the world who know what they must have in a wife. They will accept no less— for they know they could never be truly happy with compromise. Madame Poitiers helps couples find and define perfection in their relationship. This is the story of a fortunate woman who found her soul mate and then found in their relationship the happiness of truly belonging and serving the one she loves. The story begins with the letter that steered a lackluster romance toward eternal commitment and excitement. Ed was initially interested in Madame Poitiers's methods before the marriage. He flew to Paris to visit Madame and discuss his desires, then decided against trying to change his Shelly so dramatically. After the wedding, though, Shelly became a different person, more demanding, less affectionate. Only then did Ed write back to Mme. Poitiers, seeking her help with his new bride, Shelly. The Chateau d'Roissy Roissy, France Dear Madame Poitiers: I would like to set up a training session for my new wife, Shelly, in your special program to encourage development of femininity and obedience. I've thought more about the two month special program you described to me when we met in Paris last month. It seemed a bit severe then; but after some problems I've had with Shelly since July, now it seems the ideal regime. I especially appreciate your flexibility to work with me, supporting my aspirations for Shelly s development by customizing your program to meet my own special requirements. As I explained in Paris, my goal is to help Shelly overcome her shyness around my cock, help her adjust to the rigors of Victorian corseting and stiletto heels—which will become part of her daily routine, and help her to see clearly that her place in our household is to serve and please me. With my special objectives in mind, perhaps it makes sense to adjust your regular training program. I suggest we start Shelly s Victorian corseting and introduce her to her new French maid uniform on the afternoon she arrives, rather than wait until the third week, as had you proposed. Since I will keep Shelly laced in Victorian corsets when she comes home, I think it's best if she has two full months to adjust to her new fashion regime. If we can take her waist down an extra inch with this additional time for waist training in tight-laced new corsets, that would be wonderful. I'll deliver Shelly to the Chateau as you instructed• she'll be wearing a modest silk dress and medium heeled pumps. You recommended that your new novice arrive wearing her prettiest, feminine lingerie—garters and sheer stockings, delicate lace panties and brassiere. I'll try to convince Shelly to wear the stockings, as you suggested, but part of the reason I am sending Shelly to your program is to condition her to include such an under-dressing of feminine lingerie every day. I will wait until we are on our way to the Chateau to explain to her that her trip to the Chateau is not the spa visit she has imagined, but two months of strict obedience training. When we arrive, I will ask her to read my note to you aloud. Only then will she discover how we intend for her to be appropriately uniformed during her stay at the Chateau, and that I have authorized you to maintain discipline, including reddening her bottom, should she ever disobey you or display any willfulness, discourtesy, or impertinence during her two month stay. Shelly won't immediately understand that we are very serious about the promised chastisement. To help her quickly grasp the rigor of your training program at the Chateau, as soon as she arrives, before she even has a thought of rebelling, she should get a dramatic lesson. Ideally, she should see a sister novice subjected to strict discipline. If would be perfect if Shelly could immediately observe one of the other—still slightly rebellious—novice French maids called into the correction chamber, strapped down to the punishment horse, and soundly thrashed. How instructive for Shelly to see you raise the novice's skirt and petticoats, exposing her stocking tops and corset hem. I am sure that she will seriously reflect on that perfectly framed and inviting bottom, that you will proceed to stripe quite thoroughly with the tawse, birch, or cane. Surely, this will cool some of Shelly s rebellious fire before you present her with an identical French maid's uniform to wear during her stay at the chateau. With fond appreciation, Madame Poitiers had all the guidance she needed for her new novice. I made a good decision when I dressed for the trip - to please Ed, I wore my prettiest matching powder blue cinch with garters, brassiere, and tiny panties, under a short silk chemise. I choose sheer, pale lavender stockings to wear with my white silk wrap dress. My broad, tightly buckled blue belt matched my dainty three inch pumps. Mrs. Poitiers, dressed in her customary antique-styled Victorian day dress, greeted her lovely new visitor warmly, and escorted me personally to my private room. The room was small, but beautifully decorated, with lace curtains, a charming four-poster bed, a comfortable chair, a few other tasteful pieces of antique furniture, a private bath, and a window with a lovely view of the meadow and woods beyond the chateau. How wonderful and comforting to see my pleasant new surroundings and to finally meet the charming Madame Poitiers! I now felt quite at ease, compared to the worried apprehension I had felt apprehensive since reading Ed's reference to punishment in his note. I was bid to relax, freshen up, and make myself comfortable; I would be called for in an hour. Well, this would be all right, after all! In an hour, it was Linda who came for me. When I opened the door, I saw a charming young lady, about my age and size, but Linda was dressed in a classical French maid's uniform. A tight, black silk dress skimmed Linda's obviously corseted bodice. The sleek uniform was scooped at the neck, with white lace bordering the neck and the half sleeves. A short, short skirt - flaring out so that it only barely covered her stocking tops, was propped up atop layers and layers of rustling, white taffeta petticoats. Linda's long, shapely legs were entirely on display in the sheerest black back-seamed stockings; her wide. Opaque stocking tops peeked saucily from under her swishing petticoats. She moved with amazingly fluid grace atop black kid skyscraper pumps that arched her dainty feet above slender, five inch heels. Linda's severely pinched-in waist and skyscraper pumps both intrigued me, but I said nothing. Linda was most polite, but not at all talkative; she simply asked me to come with her—we had been beckoned to come see Madame. It was a long walk through many corridors, down four flights of stairs, when Linda and I finally arrived at a heavy wooden door in the basement of the chateau. Linda reached into the bodice of her uniform, and withdrew a large brass key, attached to a wide black ribbon. Linda became suddenly and unaccountably apprehensive as she unlocked the door, and escorted me inside the chamber. The room was in semi darkness as they entered. Our footsteps rang out on the cold stone floor. Linda pushed the heavy door closed, leaving me standing by the wall, with only a tiny, high window admitting a weak shaft of light. Shelly began lighting candles in sconces along the walls - almost twenty - until the room glowed with a warm, eerie light. I could finally see the assortment of ordinary and peculiar furniture in the room, and Linda bid me to sit on the settee in the middle of the room. As I sat down, I realized that the cold stone chamber was deathly quiet. Linda looked apprehensive, but she said nothing. Finally, several minutes later, Madame stepped into the room, with a mean looking riding crop in her hands. Madame sat down beside me, rested the crop on the table, and explained the special significance of this room in the program at the chateau. As she finished her explanation, Roberta appeared at the door, and knocked. Roberta was dressed exactly like Linda, in the same saucy French maid's uniform. Roberta carried a small black diary in her clenched hand. Madame took the book from Roberta, and instructed Linda to prepare her. As Madame thumbed through Roberta' s daily record log of demerits and chastisements, Linda unfolded the leather straps attached strategically around the odd shaped leather ottoman. Roberta began whimpering quietly as Linda pressed her down onto the ottoman, and buckled the leather straps around her wrists and ankles. The hard leather ottoman positioned Roberta's bottom high in the air, so that Linda could easily arrange her short skirt and taffeta petticoats aside. Once Roberta's tiny white silk panties were drawn down to her stocking tops, her lovely rounded bottom was beautifully and invitingly framed in her petticoats and garters. I could barely discern faint pink stripes on Roberta's bottom already, the remnants of a previous chastisement. How long do stripes last? "Shelly , you are about to see how we handle infractions of our rules here in the chateau. Roberta, it seems, doesn't enjoy being laced as tightly as our regulations here at the Chateau require. Roberta tampered with her corset laces; now I must remind her just how painfully unwise it is for the women-in-training to meddle with our dress requirements at the Chateau. You are about to see me stripe this young woman's bottom with an English birch, then I'll finish her chastisement with a Scottish tawse. After that punishment, there will be a new corset for her to wear the rest of the week—one of our leather punishment corsets, extra long, with double steel stays. These are not at all comfortable, I'm afraid, especially laced down an extra inch, our custom. There is a last feature of our punishment corsets that makes the week quite unforgettable: a notched leather strap, pulled tight between the front and back of the corset, between her legs, will hold two hard rubber plugs in place: a large, ribbed one in her vagina, and a slightly smaller but quite invasive one in her rectum. Roberta's punishment corset won't come off, or even be loosened, for the week. Each morning and each evening, she'll be allowed a half-hour's relief from her plugs. She'll be well paddled twice a day, before her plugs are greased and reinserted. If we hear any more complaints from her, she will find herself trussed over the ottoman again, with her ankles spread, so her inner thighs can feel the bite of stinging nettles. We find that our young ladies caught tampering their laces are often eager to resume our regular corseting regime here at the Chateau after an uninterrupted week laced into one of our punishment corsets with the saddle strap and plugs." I was emotionally drained after Roberta's merciless punishment. After Linda unstrapped Roberta from the ottoman and ushered her out the door, she returned and sat beside me. Madame Poitiers, the woman who only moments before had so cruelly excoriated Roberta's tender bottom, now spoke like a kind guardian to me: "Shelly , I sincerely hope I'll never need to see you in this room again. I certainly don't enjoy teaching these painful lessons to the girls here, but you can see that we must maintain discipline while we teach our young ladies the qualities that will make them better wives. Go now with Linda, and remember, there are rules here at the Chateau that you must follow to be happy here. Show obedience to me and to our staff, and you will enjoy a pleasant, educational two months of training." I nodded silently, and followed Linda through the long, winding corridors, back to her own room. As we entered, I imagined that my indoctrination, begun in the dungeon an hour before, was about to continue in earnest. For a stack of boxes that had not been in the room before was now sitting on the table next to the bed. Surely, these boxes held my own new uniform—the uniform that Ed's note spoke of, a uniform I guessed might be identical to Linda's and Roberta's. I stood silently by the bed as Linda closed her door. "Shelly , Madame. Poitiers asked me to help you with your new uniform. While you are here at the Chateau, you will wear this uniform every day, from dawn until you retire at night. It will take some getting used to, but all the women here have learned to enjoy it, and since you'll take it home with you, I know you and your husband will, too. Now please take off your clothes, and hang your dress in the closet." I slowly unbuttoned my dress and hung it carefully in the closet as instructed. I felt a bit self-conscious standing in only my delicate lingerie and pumps: matching pale blue satin and lace brassiere, panties, and tight cinch, with tautly tethered lavender stockings. "Ah, Shelly , I see you have already learned a little of the pleasures and beauty of a neat waist and carefully gartered stockings. So many women arrive here with no inkling of the pleasures of traditional, feminine lingerie— they are missing so much! And usually they are the women that have the most trouble adjusting to the regimen here at the Chateau, like Roberta. She has been resisting our program, but Madame is committed to delivering Roberta to her fiancée suitably tamed and dressed to his specification by the end of next month, when their wedding is planned." "Madame feels strongly that a woman working to enhance her feminine appeal cannot be too careful with her lingerie, since lovely lingerie contributes so much to any lady's inner sense of femininity. Here at the chateau, the lingerie selected by Madame makes such a dramatic and appealing improvement in our ladies' appearance, too!" "Shelly , that's such a pretty, delicate satin and lace cinch. It looks like it might have been a gift from your husband. Did Ed choose it for you? Do you often wear cinches and corsets to please him?" My first silent, affirmative nods turned to negative shakes as Shelly s hands glided firmly up and down my pinched-in waist, skimming my satin cinch. Linda pulled approvingly on the taut garters, smiling as she caressed my silky-smooth, gossamer stockings. Slowly, Linda's hands moved upward to caress my rounded bosom through my lacy brassiere.As I drew in a quick breath, Linda whispered, "Tell me, Shelly , do you wear such pretty, sexy lingerie just to please Ed, or have you discovered that you, too, enjoy this silky finery? Are you as captivated by the sensual mood that luxurious lingerie helps create as Ed is?" I answered haltingly as Linda's hands glided back down to my snugly compressed waist. "Ed bought me a drawer full of beautiful silk camisoles and slips, garter belts and stockings, merry widows and cinches. Why, this year, somewhere he even found a corsetière who custom-made for me an old-fashioned, black satin steel-boned corset. Lots of the lingerie he buys is all so pretty, but I think he likes me wearing all those fussy things more than I enjoy them myself. I'm a modern, emancipated woman;I prefer practical, modern lingerie and pantyhose. It's much more convenient and comfortable, and most of it is very pretty." Linda frowned; her hands at my waist squeezed out a quietgasp as she quietly asked, "So you have at least experimented with wearing that authentic, steel-boned, back-lacing corset, Shelly ? Did Ed help you with the lacing? What did you both think of the effect?" I paused before I answered. "Well, I only tried that last corset a few times. Ed enjoyed lacing me up in it before some quiet evenings at home. Later he told me he wanted to take his corseted, beautifully gowned wife out for an evening of fine dining and the opera. I could never agree to indulge those whims of his with that corset. A tight-laced, steel-boned corset under my dress for a whole evening out on the town? It just isn't practical. He expected me to endure hours and hours of satin and steel torture! What modern woman would possibly agree to endure such an ordeal?" As I spoke, my eyes dropped to Shelly `s trim bodice, skimming tautly over her strictly corseted waist. "Well, " Linda replied, "Some modern women—just a few, I agree, but I predict you may join these happiest of women—have come to realize that the men we love seem to find us, or any pretty young woman, irresistibly sexy when we squeeze ourselves into delightful cinches. The same lady can make herself even more tantalizing to her man when she surrenders herself to the sensual power of an elegant, whale boned Victorian corset. When Madame Poitiers first introduced me to her fashion standards here at the Chateau— tightly laced corsets, stockings, and stiletto-heeled pumps—well, it was all strange to me then, and I fought the idea initially, too. But I soon discovered, much to my surprise, how secure and sensual I feel, laced tightly into antique corsets and clad in sheer, full-fashioned stockings under my uniform and pretty dresses, as Madame insists. And then there was an unexpected, delightful bonus! I discovered that my own fiancé, John, is totally entranced by my Victorian lingerie that I wear every day, now. A girlfriend from my brief modeling career originally helped me find my job here at the Chateau; that was long before I even met John. Little did I realize how much my working here would hone my feminine skills, and what a positive difference it would make in my life. I can tell you all about that during your visit here. Right now, though, we need to get you dressed!" As I silently looked on, Linda opened the first box on the table and unfolded the tissue paper to show me a formidable black satin, steel boned Victorian corset. Linda began loosening the long silk laces and then beckoned me to step closer, so she could help me remove the lingerie I arrived in. "Today, Shelly , think of me today as your ladies maid. I'll help you with these hooks and garters, and have this lingerie freshened for your return home. Then we'll see how we like your new lingerie!" Linda unhooked my brassiere and cinch and unclasped my delicate stockings, explaining: "Madame has all the corsets for the ladies here at the Chateau made to order by one of the last authentic Victorian corsetières in France. Madame insists that all of the corsets here at the Chateau must be cut to fit perfectly, and then laced very, tightly, but with your experience, you should get used to the sensually unyielding embrace of your corset very quickly. You already know that when you first wear any new tight-laced Victorian corset, it may feel just a bit uncomfortable for a while. It takes a few wearings for new stays to mold to your body. Believe me, though, even a new corset is much less uncomfortable than the thrashing you saw Roberta get this morning! In fact, I think you'll be surprised at how comfortable, even comforting, your Victorian corset is to wear. I hope so, you really don' t have a choice." Linda opened the largest box and drew out a short, black silk dress—no, not a dress, but a French maid's uniform. It was a uniform in the "classical French Maid" style, fine black silk satin, with short sleeves, a scoop neck bordered in lace, a starched, white lace apron, and a skirt so short it surely could barely cover my bottom! I could see that this uniform dress wasn't cut for a working maid; the, long, pinched-in waist looked tinier than even Linda's snug bodice. But this maid's dress did look fun, and it certainly was sexy. What choice did I have other than go along? Linda coaxed me to the lacing bar, explaining, "This maid's uniform was carefully cut and sewn to fit you perfectly once I've laced you properly into your new corset. The corset and uniform are carefully matched set. When we have you dressed in both, you'll achieve the sleek fit that Madame insists on. The uniform is one key to our exploration of traditional femininity: the trim, sleek fit to display our shapely figures, the mental discipline of our fashionably sexy constriction, and the constant swish of satin and taffeta are all important to the effect!" I smiled resignedly, and stepped to the lacing bar beside the armoire. I could only hope, like Linda, that I, too, would eventually come to enjoy the sensuous embrace of Madame's rigid corsets, as well as the sensual display and rustle of my new uniform. I was initially surprised at the comparative comfort in the natural shaping of my Victorian corset as Linda hooked the front busk and began drawing the long laces in. If she had just been able to stop drawing in the laces with three inches of waist reduction! Linda, however, would not relent before ten minutes of determined effort, tugging on the laces while pressing her knee into my back, finally closed the gap in the stays under the laces. Once laced to 22", tighter than I ever imagined possible, this black satin and steel confection squeezed more tightly than anything I had ever experienced from my own lingerie drawer. I gasped, and asked Linda to relax the laces a bit, but she would have none of that. "You'll find you get used to a new corset in a few hours, and the corset must be drawn shut for the maid's dress to fit perfectly." Linda next helped me with sheer, full-fashioned stockings -- she had to—I couldn't bend to draw the stockings on! Then she set a pair of delicate, black patent leather pumps with 5" stiletto heels down for me to step into. I stole a glance into the mirror: I could see already that this outfit would be quite a success! Next came a tiny black lace G-string, then a frou-frou of rustling, white taffeta petticoats, and finally, the confection of a dress. When Linda had closed the innumerable tiny pearl buttons down the back, the bodice skimmed my corseted figure beautifully. My round bosom and hardened nipples pressed against the lustrous satin. Just a hint of the in-curving corset stays barely showed under the snug bodice, but the dramatic constriction of my waist made it obvious that this maid was severely corseted! I realized that when I stood perfectly still that my flaring skirt covered the cheeks of my bottom, but whenever I moved the slightest, my black stocking tops and garters were quite on display. I smiled, sure that Ed would adore the blatantly sensual appeal of "Shelly , Classical French Maid". Ah, Shelly , you look lovely. Please help Linda serve the lunch, then afterward, we will have a talk. After lunch, we spoke frankly about Ed's request and plans. Madame explained that after four months of instruction here at Chateau, I would return home to Ed, with a new wardrobe, a new outlook on marriage, and a new understanding of Ed's marital prerogatives. I was already experiencing one of the ways Ed would exercise his marriage prerogatives—he will be dressing me to please himself. Madame was sure he means to keep me corseted: "You look so sexy in your French Maid's uniform, I predict he'll choose it often for you to wear. Look at yourself in the mirror—do you think the sight of you would harden his cock?" Staring back at me from the cheval glass was a classical French maid, true in every male-fantasy detail. What a transformation in only two hours. From my carefully applied makeup, to my skyscraper pumps, I was surely a fantasy come true. How Madame Poitiers had captured so perfectly all the details of a vision of a classical French maid! The black silk uniform, skimming over my corseted, hourglass figure. The oh-so-short skirt, held high by a rustling frou-frou of white taffeta petticoats. A lovely gleam and shimmer of the sheerest imaginable black stockings. Those wide, provocatively arched black stocking tops, barely visible in the cloud of petticoats, with the ruler-straight seams as the perfect accent. And my pumps! I never knew I could negotiate such slender 5" heels. The overall effect was breathtaking. What would Ed request first from his obedient maid? Madame reassured me that I wouldn't have to wait two months to get his reaction. Ed would be visiting for the evening at the end of the week. I would be helping to serve dinner, and Madame would turn over my black book to Ed for him to expiate any transgressions during my first week. I thought about the punishment room with trepidation and anticipation. I might be strapped over that ottoman just like Roberta, I might be birched until my bottom cheeks burned and glowed just like Roberta, but then I knew I would be soundly fucked, and it would all be worthwhile! But I'm getting ahead of myself. How do you remember your first visit to see me after enrolling me at the Chateau? Your second and third visit? I'm expecting you will probably make up for lost time in my nearly virgin ass!
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