Maid Service (3 page)

“Then your nightie comes off so you're all nude and you get marched up to the Mother Superior's office, right past all the dorms with your red bottom showing, and everybody knows what's happened, of course. Then you get another spanking in the office, much harder, with this big wooden spanking paddle Mother keeps on the wall behind her desk, a bit like the ones your friend Hunter was talking about when the girls get spanked in America, I suppose. You're done over her desk and you have to stay still or you get extra. When she's finished and you're crying your heart out and feeling so, so sorry for yourself, then you get the cane, six hard strokes on your bare bottom, and if you can't take it they hold you down, and then … then Mother sticks the fat handle of the paddle into your fanny to remind you of what you've done while you get another six, and you're made to confess and tell everything, who the boy was and how he did you, and …”

She trailed off, breathless and flushed, seemingly frightened and more than a little upset, but with one corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly. Peter had been tugging himself furiously, his head burning with images of naked, humiliated girls with their cunts held open for inspection or their bottoms presented for punishment, but he stopped suddenly.

“Hold on, you're making this up, aren't you? You're just joking!”

Tiffany burst out laughing, tossed her soiled panties onto Peter's face, and ran. He gave chase, his erect cock sticking from up his fly as he pursued her along the cutting, threatening spankings and worse in retribution for her teasing. She ran well, laughing as she went, her skirt fluttering up to give him enticing glimpses of her bare bottom. But Peter ran faster, and he'd soon caught her, throwing her to the ground and straddling her body, face down in the long grass, her laughter breaking to a weak sob as he turned up her skirt at the back. With her bottom bare to the world she went limp, surrendered to whatever indignity he chose to subject her too.

“Right you little minx,” he told her, “just for that I'm going to spank you and I'm going to get myself off all over your bottom. How does that feel?”

“Do it then, you big pig,” she answered. “Take advantage of me, why don't you, like the dirty little boy you are.”

As she spoke she'd pushed up her hips, taunting him with the bare cleft of her ass and the tender spot within. Peter gave her a smack, then another, left handed, while he pulled at his cock with his right.

“I will,” he told her, now spanking with firm, well placed swats as he masturbated, “but not because I'm a dirty little boy, but because you're a dirty little girl who deserves to be punished, for teasing boys by making up rude stories!”

“It's true!” Tiffany answered between squeals as the spanking continued. “We do get inspected, just … ow! Just not like that … ow! A doctor comes, an awful old woman who makes us … ow! Who makes us take all our clothes off, every stitch … ow! And she puts us in stirrups so she can see up our fannies … ow! Peter, not so hard!”

“You're a little liar,” he chided, “and you deserve it hard, very hard. You had me believing you too, you looked so sorry for yourself. Now, be a good girl and shut up so I can concentrate on what you need!”

“Pig!” Tiffany told him, but nothing about her upthrust bottom or rudely displayed private parts suggested that she was in any way ready for him to stop.

Peter continued to spank her, and to replay the scene she'd put into his head as his excitement rose. Her bottom was a delight, exquisitely feminine and rosy pink with spanking, just the thing to focus on while he pulled himself off, but it would be the second time within a matter of minutes and it might take just a little longer. Yet there was no rush, with Tiffany submissive and compliant beneath him. Apparently, being happily used for his kicks, was just what she needed to get herself off.

“You're lovely,” he told her. “Just perfect … so perfect.”

He was still spanking, harder than ever, and she gave no response beyond her sobs and squeals of pain, every single one of which added a little something to his excitement. Yet in his mind's eye she was no longer being spanked by him, nor in the old railway cutting. She was in the convent, held down over the matron's knee with her bare bottom squirming and pink, crying her eyes out as she was spanked with half-a-dozen other girls looking on. Each would be in the same sorry state, her nightie held up and her knickers off, her naked bottom exposed and the neat little slit of her pussy bare at the front. Their faces would be full of misery and consternation for their exposure and the thought of the spankings they had coming, each and every one facing the same humiliating treatment Tiffany now received. Others would have already been done, and sent to stand against the wall with their hands on their heads and their red, smacked bottoms naked as the tears of shame trickled slowly down their faces. But even they would be watching as Tiffany was spanked.

“I want to see you done,” he sighed, now stroking himself with such furious speed that the motion of his hand was making her bottom jiggle. “I want to see you done by that mad old hag of a Matron, spanked on your bare bottom—and not just you, Tiffs, all your friends too, one after another, girlie little butts spanked one after another, all of you, knickers off and spanked bare … spanked so hard …”

His voice broke to a grunt as he started to come, his fingers now clawed into the soft flesh of one hot, round cheek, spreading her cleft as his cum came again, soiling her cheeks and her slit, pooling in the little brown dimple between. Guilt and doubt hit him the instant he was past the first exquisite peak, but that didn't stop him finishing off … or from considering just how much his friends would be prepared to pay in order to witness a scene like the one he'd just imagined.

Peter sat at the desk in his dormitory bedsit, his mathematics prep piled neatly to one side, complete and correct, the sheet of paper in front of him covered in scribbles and neatly formed little boxes linked one to another by arrows. For the previous hour, he had been attempting to work out how he could set up a group scene which his friends could be invited to watch, for a price. So far, he didn't feel he'd had much success.

It was practical, although the risks were high. Having the girls paraded for the inspection of their virginity seemed likely to be too complicated, but a punishment spanking was at least feasible. The stumbling block was costs. With the exception of Hunter Rackman and one or two others, none of his friends could be expected to go above ten shillings unless they had plenty of warning and he laid on something really spectacular. Perhaps a dozen could be relied on to keep their mouths shut afterwards, at least until the end of the year when they'd all be leaving and it would no longer matter. It was hard to see how he could achieve an income of much above five pounds, ten at a pinch, which looked healthy until the overheads were taken into consideration.

Tiffany was game, as always, and she was confident that she could persuade at least four of her friends to accept spankings in a good cause, as long as they were paid enough. Therein lay the problem. The girls at St. Monica's came from wealthy, respectable families and were not going to be persuaded to let their knickers down for a few pennies, let alone have their bottoms smacked when they knew boys were watching. It was also essential to have pretty, shapely girls; and pretty, shapely girls tended to be vain and therefore expensive. Tiffany had jokingly suggested the idea to her friend Charlotte, a petite, bouncy blonde with a rounded bottom and breasts like a pair of fat little peaches. Charlotte had giggled, considered the idea for a moment, then come back with a figure of five pounds. Even if four pretty girls could be talked down to a couple of pounds apiece, that still left little or no margin. They'd also need two girls who could pass as junior nuns to do the spanking, while there were sure to be other costs. At best they would come away with a few shillings each, which scarcely seemed worthwhile, however exciting the idea.

Never one to be easily dissuaded, Peter spent a moment trying to convince himself to go ahead with the idea anyway, but his mind kept coming back to Charlotte and her casual (but prohibitive) quote of five pounds. He'd only seen her on the hockey field, with her gloriously formed bouncy bottom bulging out the seat of her bottle green gym knickers
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as she played, and the thought of seeing her with those same knickers pulled right down to bare her bottom for a spanking was enough to leave his cock so hard it ached. It was no surprise that she set such a high value on herself, yet Tiffany felt she was likely to be the cheapest of the four willing girls.

Tiffany's best friend, Alice Shelley, could be relied upon to join in. With her pale hair and winsome, delicate figure she was sure to be popular, but she was going to expect her fair share. Christine, smaller still but with a poisonous reputation and a stockbroker father, apparently wouldn't do it unless she got more money than anybody else. Yet her perfect, haughty face made the idea of watching her get spanked too good to resist. Then there was Emerald Feldkirch, an American girl who seemed to be made of sun, ripe wheat and all things wholesome but, according to Tiffany, was always the first out of her clothes if things got naughty.

Among the other girls he knew by sight only one really stood out: Ayanna, an Indian girl rumored to be a princess and blessed with a slender figure, a perfect little bottom on long, coltish legs and hair that fell to her ankles when loose. She was always a favorite on the hockey field, particularly as her gym knickers tended to ride up terribly, leaving her scrumptious, nut brown bottom almost entirely exposed, the fabric pulling taut against her pussy and leaving little to the imagination. But it was her air of grave, subconscious superiority that really appealed. To see her spanked would be bliss, although Tiffany had been adamant that she was unavailable.

The thought was painfully arousing and Peter shut his eyes, trying to banish the images of the five or more beautiful girls undergoing the humiliating spanking regime he and Tiffany had devised. As a fantasy, it would have been powerful. But to know that it was possible actually hurt, and he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed even harder as he struggled to persuade himself that it was both too expensive and too risky.

“Bugger!” he swore, pushing his chair back from the desk just as the door opened.

“No talking during prep,” Ben Thompson informed him, “and definitely no swearing.”

“Dry up, Thompson,” Peter responded, although his friend was already smiling and obviously didn't mean it. “Just because you're a prefect
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doesn't mean you can boss me around.”

“Yes it does,” Ben answered. “But never mind that. When do we get to watch Tiff's again?”

“Soon,” Peter promised.

“How about a striptease this time?” Ben went on eagerly. “Nice and slow, right down to the bare.”

“That could be arranged,” Peter admitted. His friend's near-desperate tone caused such pride and satisfaction to well up inside him that he'd continued speaking without thinking about what he was saying. “How about some of the other Senior St. Monica's girls too?”

“Other girls?” Ben asked in awe. “Stripping? Hey, you're pulling my leg. Tiffs is your girlfriend, but nobody …”

“Not stripping,” Peter admitted, hastily pulling back in the face of Ben's disbelief. “Getting spanked.”

“What's the deal with you and spanking?” Ben asked.

“Nothing,” Peter lied. “That's just what's happening. Some of the girls are going to be spanked, as a punishment.”

“What, and we can watch?” Ben demanded, more awestruck than ever.

“Maybe, if things work out,” Peter went on, telling himself that there was no harm in outlining his idea, and that he could always claim the girls had been pardoned if the group spanking proved impossible to organize.

“How?” Ben queried. “I mean, they're not just going to let us into St. Monica's when some girls are getting it, are they?”

“Of course not, but there's going to be a spanking, six girls, and for the right money I might be able to arrange a viewing.”

“How?” Ben repeated.

Peter had no idea and tapped the side of his nose to suggest mysterious influences, but the look of disbelief on Ben's face was close to scorn and Peter found himself making the effort to persuade his friend.

“I know it's going to happen, because Tiffs told me so. She's one of the girls getting it, and her friend Alice, you know, with the long blonde hair, and Charlotte Mayfield, and three others, including the Indian princess. They're going to get it all at once, lined up and waiting. Knickers down, bottoms up, pussies out. Spanked over the knee by the nuns, then lined up again, against the wall with their hands on their heads and all red behind.”

Ben's mouth had fallen open, but closed abruptly to become a knowing grin.

“Yeah, right! Good one, Finch, but I'm not buying.”

“I'm serious,” Peter went on. “They got caught smoking and the nuns are out to make an example of them. The only hard bit is getting to watch. If you don't believe me, ask Tiffs.”

Doubt still showed in Ben's face, but he gave a thoughtful nod before he spoke again.

“How would we get in?”

“That's my business,” Peter replied, once again tapping the side of his nose, “and that's why it's not going to come cheap.”

“How much?”

“Two quid
v
.”

“That's more than I get for the whole term!”

“Maybe a quid, for you, but it's worth it. You saw Tiffs get it for fun, but she's game. Imagine Alice, looking all shy and sorry for herself as her knickers are taken down, then over some old bitch of a nun's knee with everything showing, her fanny, even her asshole. And what about Charlotte? I bet she'll howl. And that stuck up bitch Christine Arlington, and there's an American girl too, a real beauty, and the princess. Think of the fury of a spanked princess, with nothing but air between us and her naked little virgin fanny …”