Lady Pamela, Wife Of The Earl Of Carnarvon

After the British Airways plane taxied up to the terminal of the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport (also known as the Roissy Airport) and the fasten seat belt sign was turned off, forty-six-year-old Lady Pamela slowly and carefully stood up. As she arose from her seat in First Class, she swept the back of her full skirt back down into place. Hopefully, none of the nearby passengers got a flash of her bare backside.

Like all female members of The Society, she was forbidden to wear any underwear other than stockings with garter belts (no pantyhose) and a corset if she chose to do so. She was also forbidden to cross her legs, or even to allow her knees to touch together. The same with the lips of her mouth. Keeping her lips and legs perpetually slightly parted was a symbol that she was always available to any male of The Society. Having to sit without any fabric between her bottom and whatever she was sitting on further reinforced this fact.

All blouses had to button up in the front, and if she did wear a pullover, the neckline had to be cut low enough so that her breasts could be easily scooped out. The same with evening gowns. No pants of any sort were allowed, and dresses/skirts had to be loose enough to be raised about her waist in one effortless motion. Her body no longer belonged to her.

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The uniformed Chauffeur, with his black peaked cap, black tunic with mandarin collar and twin rows of silver buttons, jodhpurs, and jackboots stood by the arrival exit holding up a sign, 'The Chateau'. It was not necessary. She recognized the man; he had driven her from and to the airport the last five times she had performed her required two-week stint. All female members were expected to put in two weeks of service at the Chateau as Chattel, barring medical reasons. In the twenty-years since she joined, she had only skipped twice, when she was pregnant with her second daughter and the following year after her daughter's birth.

The Chauffeur also recognized the five and a half foot tall Pamela who was heading straight his way. Her hundred and twenty-six pounds were packed into pleasing curves, a full bust and a wide ass. Her long black hair waved with each step and despite the crow's feet around her brown eyes and the laugh lines around her thin lips, she was still an attractive woman.

The two nodded sightly to each other, but neither spoke in greeting. The Chattel were compelled to observe the rule of silence. Out of the street, he held the rear door open for her and after she sat, having first lifted her skirt to plop her bare butt and upper thighs onto the leather seat, he asked for her ticket. Once he had retrieved her single suitcase from baggage claim and put it into the trunk, he got behind the wheel to begin the journey back to the Chateau and the strange dream world that would be the English noblewoman's home for the next fortnight.

Pamela sat with her legs crossed at the ankles and allowed her knees to drift further apart than she normally did. No doubt he could see her in the rearview mirror, but she knew that the folds of her skirt hid anything from him, except perhaps her stocking-tops. Pretending to peer out the window, she saw through the corner of her eye when he reached up to adjust the mirror.