In my last entry I gave a much abbreviated summary of my first days on the estate. A few deeper questions were posed by Someone who was interested to learn what walls of resistance I came up against in the early days. Thus I will give account of one particular afternoon.
At the age of 19 if I had been asked to describe my personal traits I would have characterised myself as a well-mannered, proper, cleanly, and respectful young gentleman at the very least. I felt that having been subjected to the regimented daily life in my father's house (you will recall he was a butler) I was indeed the epitome of perfection, in as far as humans can attain it.
To put it more concisely I was a bit of a snob and although I did not consider myself to be so, MsV recognised my unseemly self-importance quite quickly and sought out ways to humble me.
Brian, Tristan and myself were each assigned duties by Mistress. They were meant to condition us every bit as much as to accomplish what needed to be done on the estate. Being Alpha, Brian's place was more specific to meeting MsV's personal needs, and in essence being Her personal assistant. He rarely had to lower himself to anything that might be considered degrading.
Tristan, Her Beta, usually drew the more favourable chores such as dusting the Great Room, polishing the silver and tidying the shelves in the library. On occasion he would take on a few menial tasks such as mopping, hoovering or washing up. I, as Gamma, was to manage the rest.
It likely comes as no surprise that I particularly despised cleaning the toilet. (For American readers: The 'toilet' in the UK means the entire 'bathroom') There are exactly ten toilets in the main building and six in the outer buildings. To do the job properly took all of one day and sometimes into the night. I completed the task in approximately 15 hours the first week, having been caught out on Her white glove inspection which required me to redo three of the sixteen. I was exhausted afterwards but this did not excuse me from participation in the bi-weekly Thursday evening game of charades. How tired I was. I believe I very nearly passed out trying to imitate a swan for Swan Lake.
The second week I was very dismayed to see the same chore written beneath my name on the schedule for Thursday. I was more than a bit reluctant to tackle it all again. I pondered what might happen if I expressed my true feelings about the assigned task. The more I considered the prospect of scrubbing out 16 toilets the more agitated I felt. Wasn't this work for an unskilled person? Weren't there many other tasks I could do that were more suitable to my education and intelligence. I mentally talked myself into a angry indignation and decided to confront Mistress with my displeasure.
At the first opportunity I sought audience with Her. Knocking on the door of Her study I requested permission to enter. Granted. Then I requested permission to speak freely, which was also granted. My petition started off quite politely but over the course of relaying my dismay I gradually became irritated. The progression from polite petition to disrespectful complaint was so gradual that I did not even realise I had overstepped a boundary. All the while She kept Her composure. Not a hint of reaction could be noted in her expression. She heard me out and when I paused asked me if I was indeed finished. When I stated that I was I waited for Her response.
She stood and told me that She appreciated my forthrightness in coming directly to Her with my feelings. She went on to lecture me on the importance of laying my heart and mind open to Her so that She might better be able to gauge what I needed as an individual in the way of refinement. For a brief moment I felt She understood my point of view.
Without a moments notice She had my left ear firmly in Her very tight grasp. Whilst trying hard to remain still I was given Her assessment of me as a person and as Her submissive. It was not a good report. But, She assured me, I needn't worry as She had just the thing for what ailed me. She rang down to Tristan speaking quickly to him about 'watering the circle'. I did not know what this instruction was about and for the time it wasn't the most important thing to me.
Keeping Her grip on my ear She commanded me to remove my shorts, the only article of clothing I wore. I obeyed without hesitation. I remember being able to feel my heart pick up tempo as I hadn't a clue what was in Her mind to do with me. She continued to lead me down the corridor, into the Great Room, where the housekeeper and her younger assistants were tidying in anticipation of a network party MsV was hosting that evening. Down the staircase and into the foyer She led me, passing several caterers and a woman I believe was the florist.
When She took a turn toward the deeper end of the foyer I correctly guessed that we would pass through the kitchen and out into the garden. Once in the open air She led me to a grassless circle of dirt that I had seen before and pondered what its possible use could be. Most times when I'd been trotted round it during exercise or playtime with my brothers it was a dry patch of dirt where someone had purposely removed the turf in the shape of a perfect circle. This day it had been doused profusely with water and was reduced to what closely resembled a pig's mud bath. It then dawned on me that this was the 'circle' that needed watering.
She instructed me to lie belly down in the muck. As much as I tried I could not bring myself to do so. I abhor mud and most any form of uncleanliness. She then instructed me to kneel in the patch and I managed that with a bit of a grimace on my face. And whilst I was getting my bearings She quickly forced me down into the filth face first.
In hindsight it is a bit humourous but I was not laughing then. The side of my face and my entire upper torso were caked with this filthy, malodorous mud. I felt at the time I would be physically sick. She pulled me up by my hair and told me to kneel until She returned for me. It was three hours before I saw Her again. (She informed me later that She was checking up on me from the pantry window from time to time.)
She came for me just prior to the time Her guests would arrive and enlisted Tristan to take me to the stable and 'hose me down'. She handed him a towel and a blanket and looked me straight in the eye to put emphasis to what She was about to say. I was to sleep alone in the barn that night. I was to spend time comtemplating my sin of pridefulness and come up with several specific ways I would (not could) change my attitude. I would not have the honour of serving at the party as was originally intended. Also I would still perform the toilet chore not only that Thursday but for three months of Thursdays until I had sufficiently realised that there was no task below me.
It took me some time to truly believe that all She required of me was for my own refinement, to make me a better boy. In time I was to learn that Her motives were indeed pure.
There are many stories I could tell. What is factual is that I was quite resistant at times. I was physically punished quite a few times until I literally sobbed begging Her forgiveness. There are many entries in my journal that describe my feelings and going over them once more has been very enlightening.
Ryan