They took me to a small room at the far end of the servants’ wing.

It contained only a narrow bed, a single chair, and a full-length mirror. The gardener cleaned me lightly with a warm cloth, then inserted a slim night plug and locked a softer night collar around my throat. I was told to sleep on my back, legs slightly apart, hands visible.

Sleep came in thin, restless pieces.

Morning arrived with the door opening.

A tall woman in a tailored charcoal dress stood there, dark hair in a low knot, a thin black cane under one arm. Her presence filled the room at once.

“I am the Mistress of this house,” she said. “The master has given me charge of your further presentation. Stand.”

I stood. The slim plug shifted. She examined me without hurry — the collar, the faint marks on my nipples, the way the plug sat between my legs.

“You will address me as Mistress. You will not cover yourself in my presence unless ordered. Today you will be fitted for your formal special-maid dresses. There are several. Each has a particular function. Come.”

She clipped a thin leash to my collar and led me naked through the quiet morning corridors and into a waiting car.

The private boutique was soft light, pale carpets, and long mirrors. Two elegant women waited — the Mistress’s friends. They looked at my collared, plugged body with open interest.

“These are my friends,” the Mistress said. “They will help select the garments. You will be fitted for all of them in front of us.”

I was guided onto a raised platform. The slim night plug was removed and replaced with a slightly thicker training plug that had a long silk ribbon attached to its base. The ribbon would be used with the dresses.

Then the fittings began.

The first dress was black and severely structured.

It was extremely short, tightly fitted through the waist, with a bodice that lifted my breasts and left the nipples completely exposed through precise open circles. The skirt sat high on the hips and could be clipped up at the back to leave the ass bare. Hidden loops inside the waistband allowed the plug’s ribbon to be drawn upward and tied, so every step would tug gently at what filled me. A matching thin collar with a silver ring completed it.

When I walked, the ribbon pulled with each movement and my nipples remained framed and available.

The second dress was deep wine-red.

The fabric was softer, almost liquid, but the cut was more revealing. It had a plunging open front held only by thin ties under the breasts, so the entire inner curve of each breast and both nipples stayed visible. The skirt was little more than two overlapping panels that parted when I walked, exposing the plug and the ribbon completely with every step. Small silver rings were sewn along the hem so the panels could be clipped back permanently if the Mistress wished.

One of the friends ran her hand up my bare thigh while I turned, checking how easily the panels opened.

The third dress was black again, but lighter and more severe.

It was a single piece of stretch fabric that clung like a second skin. The neckline was high, but two precise circular cut-outs left the nipples fully exposed and slightly compressed by the tight edges of the fabric. The skirt ended just below the curve of the ass and had a long vertical slit at the back that could be held open by the plug’s ribbon once it was threaded through and tied at the waist. A built-in waist belt allowed additional straps to be attached later for restraint.

When the ribbon was pulled tight and fastened, every small movement made the plug shift inside me.

The fourth dress was the most formal.

Ivory and black, with a structured bodice that pushed the breasts upward and outward while leaving the nipples bare through open frames of stiff lace. The skirt was slightly longer at the front but cut high and rounded at the back so that the lower half of the ass remained visible even when I stood still. The plug ribbon was designed to be brought up between the cheeks and tied in a small bow at the base of the spine, turning the plug into a visible part of the outfit. Matching wrist cuffs could be clipped to the waistband when required.

The Mistress herself adjusted the lace frames over my nipples until they sat exactly as she wanted.

I was made to walk in each dress in turn while the three women watched. They discussed the cut, the way the ribbon pulled, how easily the skirts could be lifted or clipped, and how clearly the plug remained noticeable. One friend would occasionally reach under a skirt to test the ribbon’s tension; another would brush a fingertip across an exposed nipple to see how quickly it tightened.

By the time the final dress was removed I was flushed, the thicker training plug still seated, the silk ribbon hanging down between my thighs.

The Mistress stood in front of me and lifted my chin with one finger.

“These will form your formal special-maid wardrobe. You will wear whichever I choose. No underclothes. The plug and ribbon stay. Tonight you will serve in the first black dress. Tomorrow we will decide the next.”