Maid Service (10 page)

“It's not, but they know I like to spank, and they are the prettiest girls, so they weren't at all surprised. You see, as Head Girl I get to recommend who ought to be made a prefect, so I said I wouldn't put anybody's name forward unless they took a spanking. That got Emerald and Christine's attention. Plus, it was Emerald who I caught smoking, so she had the most to lose.”

“I told Lottie,” Tiffany put in, “and she even knew you'd be watching. Then we talked Alice into it too. They really quite like having their bottoms smacked.”

“Oh … fair enough. They told me how to get here, by the way. I walked in on them at rather an embarrassing moment, I'm afraid. And what about Katie?”

“She was smoking with Emerald, so she knew she was in for a spanking.”

“But what did you tell them about me and the others?”

“I blamed it on you,” Vicky continued casually. “I said Tiffs told you about the spanking and you brought your friends along to watch, but without telling her. They still think it was for real, Christine, Emerald and Katie anyway. It's you they're angry with, and Tiffs. She got it from both of them, over their knees with hairbrushes and a handle up her bum to finish her off, but …”

She stopped at a sound from beyond the door. Tiffany rolled beneath the bed as Peter threw himself behind the curtains to stand stock still against the window as a knock sounded, firm but very gentle. Sure that a nun would have been more assertive and probably spoken too, Peter relaxed a little but stayed where he was as Vicky spoke.

“Who's that? Come in, silly … Ayanna?”

Vicky was clearly surprised by the identity of her visitor, as was Peter. Peering cautiously out from a crack in the drapes, he saw the Indian girl making her way into the room. She was in pajamas of pale blue silk, loose on her slender figure save where her small, pointed breasts and little round bottom pushed out the fabric, while her hair hung to her ankles in a curtain of midnight black. Her face showed a reserved, haughty expression, but the corner of her mouth twitched oddly, as if in extreme embarrassment and she seemed unable to speak.

“What's the matter?” Vicky asked. “Come out from under the bed will you, Tiffs?”

Tiffany emerged, to swap shy smiles with Ayanna, who now seemed more hesitant than ever. Peter stayed as he was, not daring to move so much as a muscle but with a decent view of the room. Finally Ayanna found her voice.

“I … I want to be a prefect, Vicky.”

“You could have come to see me during the day to ask that,” Vicky responded.

Ayanna lifted her chin, proud and determined but now shaking visibly as she went on, her voice oddly formal and also defiant, as if she were addressing a mob.

“I understand from Emerald Feldkirch and Christine Arlington that in order for you to put our names forward you feel the need to … to punish us first … to spank us … on our bottoms.”

For an instant Vicky merely looked surprised, then amused, but when she replied her voice was cool and even.

“Yes, that's right.”

“May I ask why?” Ayanna demanded. “It seems a very undignified test.”

“That's the whole point,” Vicky continued blithely. “I don't want anybody who's going to get above herself, and the way I see it, anybody who's too stuck up to take a spanking isn't fit to have authority over other girls.”

“I already understand this lesson,” Ayanna answered. “To rule well, one must understand what it is to be humble.”

“Exactly,” Vicky agreed. “So if you want me to put your name forward, I want you over my knee. I can't make any exceptions, I'm afraid, not after I've done Emerald and Christine.”

Ayanna swallowed hard, then spoke again.

“I do not ask to be made an exception. I would like to be spanked on my bottom.”

Vicky's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she had quickly made a lap, speaking again as she patted one leg.

“Okay then, drop your pjs and we'll soon have you done. But I warn you, it will be a proper spanking.”

“I cannot accept that,” Ayanna answered. “You may spank me, but only gently, and over the seat of my pajamas. Tiffany will stand witness.”

“Chrissie and Emerald took it bare,” Tiffany pointed out, her voice softly seductive. “You should too.”

“I am a rani,” Ayanna replied, “and the daughter of a maharajah. I should not really be spanked at all, let alone naked.”

“You don't have to be naked,” Tiffany put in. “Just bare bottom.”

“I will still uncover what should not be seen save by my husband,” Ayanna insisted. “You must spank me, but on the seat of my pajamas, as I would be spanked in India.”

“Well,” Vicky said, “here in England girls are spanked on their bare bottoms. Take it or leave it.”

“You may use your hairbrush,” Ayanna offered, her nose now lifted high in the air, “to make my spanking more painful, but I do not go naked!”

“Oh yes you do,” Vicky answered, and before Ayanna could react, her pajama bottoms had been whipped down, baring her to Peter's delighted gaze.

Another instant and Ayanna had been turned across Vicky's knee with her little brown bottom stuck high in the air and the lips of her cunt peeping out invitingly between her thighs. The spanking began without further ceremony, Ayanna squealing with indignation as her cheeks bounced and spread, showing off all the soft and secret places she had but a moment before been pledging to a husband, with Tiffany giggling and Vicky chiding all the while.

“Princess you may be, but once you're over my knee with your bottom bare you're no better than any other little brat, are you? You squeal just the same and you kick just the same, and what a surprise, your little pussy's all wet!”

Ayanna had given a gasp of pure, unbridled outrage as Vicky's finger snuck between her thighs to test the state of her cunt. With her secret out, Ayanna lost some of her defiance, now sobbing over Vicky's lap as the spanking continued. Neither was there any doubt of the Indian girl's involuntary response, with the rich, feminine scent of her cunt thick in the air and the slick honey glistening between her legs, so much so that she'd plainly been soaking wet even before she arrived.

Vicky continued to spank, now grinning, while Tiffany began to tease, counting out the smacks as they landed across Ayanna's wriggling cheeks—ten, and twenty, and thirty—with the spanked girl's sobs growing ever more bitter, the syrup from her cunt now so copious that it spattered the tucks of her cheeks and her inner thighs, running from her slit onto Vicky's leg with every swat.

“Admit it, Ayanna,” Vicky urged when Tiffany had counted out fifty smacks to Ayanna's flushed bottom. “You like it, don't you? Come on, tell me, then stick your bottom up and let's have some fun.”

Still clinging to the last vestiges of her pride despite her blazing bottom and sopping wet cunt, Ayanna said something in a language Peter didn't recognize. Vicky merely laughed and continued to spank, pausing occasionally to rub at Ayanna's cunt or tickle her bottom, until finally the Indian girl broke, lifting her bottom and cocking her thighs wide to offer herself to Vicky.

“That's my girl,” Vicky said happily. “There, doesn't that feel nice? Doesn't that feel right, over my knee with your bottom all bare and hot? Now come on, stick it right up high.” This time there was no resistance. Ayanna's hips came up, spreading her bottom wide, advertising the opening between her cheeks, her wet cunt wide and puffy between her open thighs. Vicky continued to spank, but more gently now, and with ever more attention to Ayanna's cunt, until at last she spoke to Tiffany.

“You bring her off. I'll do the spanking.”

Tiffany complied immediately, extending one knuckle to rub in the wetness of Ayanna's slit as the spanking carried on, firm and even across the little brown buttocks. Peter watched, still frozen and very sure his emergence from behind the curtain would not be welcome, for all that Vicky obviously realized he was watching and seemed to be enjoying making an exhibition of Ayanna's naked rear and helpless arousal.

So was Tiffany, leaning closer to deliberately spread Ayanna's pussy lips wide, showing off the wet, bright pink inside and the taut arc of flesh that sealed her vagina. Vicky gave a sharp tut as she saw Tiffany's crass display of their subject. The sound was half-mocking and half-chiding, but Vicky continued to spank the wriggling girl, until at last their rude treatment had its intended effect and Ayanna came, crying out in ecstasy and squirming her bottom and cunt against her tormentors' hands as they brought her to orgasm.

The moment she was done she collapsed, lying limp over Vicky's knee in a flood of tears, her body now shaking with sobs, although she made no effort to cover herself up, with her bottom still spread and her lowered pajamas taut between her open thighs. Vicky reached down, to lift Ayanna into her arms, cuddling her close as she slipped one heavy breast from her nightie, offering the engorged nipple to the Indian girl's mouth. Ayanna began to suckle immediately, the tears still streaming down her face but her eyes closed in transcending bliss.

Soundlessly, Vicky made an urgent gesture toward the door, signaling that Tiffany and Peter should leave. He hesitated, sure Ayanna would notice, but her eyes remained closed and she had begun to nuzzle at Vicky's breast as if she was feeding from her mother, an act so intimate he felt too guilty to watch. A few quick steps and he was through the door and on the landing beside Tiffany. She closed the door and took him in her arms, kissing with open passion as her hands fumbled for his cock.

Peter responded, unable to hold back. His cock had been achingly erect since he'd first laid eyes on Alice and Charlotte, and he'd grown harder still as he'd watched Ayanna's spanking, so much so that he was sure he would cum the moment Tiffany touched him. She was no better, fumbling his habit up and wrenching his zip down as she sank to her knees, freeing his cock straight into her mouth. He gasped, his teeth gritted against the ecstasy as she sucked and licked at his erection and at his balls, right on the edge of orgasm and happy to give Tiffany a mouthful of spunk when she suddenly pulled back, babbling at him as she jerked her nightie up over her breasts.

“Do it now, Peter. Take me, fuck me, use me like the little whore you've made me. Take my virginity, Peter, take it now.”

He didn't need telling twice, neither willing nor able to hold himself back as he tore her nightie off over her head and jammed her entire body against the wall. She gasped as her thighs came up and open, her arms went around his neck and she was clinging onto him with desperate need as his cock probed for her cunt. He felt her wetness, pushed, felt the tight constriction of her hymen and pushed again, hard.

Tiffany screamed as her hymen breached, a sound of mingled pain and pleasure, despair and delight, emotions far too strong for her to think of their surroundings or the need for silence. Peter didn't care either, already coming as he thrust into her, slamming her body against the wall over and over again as his cock sank deep into her cunt with her fluids running down over his balls, then spunk too as he emptied himself into her. She screamed a second time, in animal reaction to what he'd done inside her, pushed to orgasm by the sheer power of her fucking before their mouths crushed together in a long, fierce kiss that broke only when his cock finally slipped from her freshly deflowered cunt.

They still held onto each other, lost in emotion for what they'd done but slowly coming down. The moonlight shining in at the landing window fell full on Tiffany's face, which was flushed with pleasure and a devotion he'd never seen before. He kissed her again and whispered three soft words, and as she replied in kind she'd begun to cry. Peter tried to find words, wondering if she was pregnant as his mind began to clear and wanting to tell her everything would be alright. But before he could decide what to say a voice called out from somewhere downstairs, female, harsh and pre-emptory, demanding to know what was going on.

“You have to get back!” he hissed, but the nun's heavy tread was already on the stairs. “The roof, use the roof!”

Tiffany was already scrabbling at the window catch, but even as it slid wide the light came on, illuminating a bulky figure at the top of the stairs.

“Sister?” the nun asked as she caught sight of Peter's habit, from behind as he bundled Tiffany out of the window. “What's going on? What's …”

She'd put a hand on Peter's shoulder, spinning him around to reveal his face and also his erection, still sticking up from the folds of his habit. Her mouth widened, forming a scream even as Peter lashed out blindly, his hands flailing, shoving, sending her staggering back against Vicky's door, which burst open, revealing Vicky, stark naked, helping an equally naked Ayanna out of her own window.

Peter didn't wait to admire the view, leaping over the legs of the prostrate nun and hurling himself down the stairs. Two more nuns were coming down the corridor, but he burst past them and down the next flight of stairs, and another, heedless of the shouts and screams behind him. The basement corridor was empty, the laundry also, and he barely broke stride as he crashed through the laundry room door to find himself faced with three nuns in nothing but their underwear.

Yet the window was open and he was through it in an instant, running across the playing fields as fast as he could go with screams and yells of fury and accusation ringing in his ears. Yet he knew he was clear and probably free, too fast to catch and too sure of the way back through the woods for anybody to follow. It seemed likely that Tiffany had escaped too. He knew she would never betray him, and Vicky had nothing to gain by doing so.

There would be trouble though, inquiries at the school, followed by the inevitable accusations. But that was pure routine, something he'd been through half a dozen times in his school career. Porter would call an emergency assembly, at which he would state that they already knew who had perpetrated the outrage at St. Monica's but would give the culprit a chance to come forward and confess his guilt of his own accord. Peter laughed at the simple ruse, which had first been tried on him at the tender age of eight. When suddenly he was brought up sharp, his heart seeming to jump into his mouth at the sound of a voice from the trees directly in front of him.