Date: Fri, 5 Dec 2014 18:14:25 -0500
From: Victorian Shelly
Subject: Trained To Be A Better Wife ? At Roissy

Trained To Be A Better Wife — At Roissy (F/F, D/s, BD, Consensual?) By
Victorianshelly2 49 F
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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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