Maid Service (12 page)

“Oh my God, my purse!” Michelle exclaimed suddenly.

“It's in the pocket of the jacket you're wearing,” Peter answered.

“Thank you,” Michelle breathed, then glanced towards him. “Will you stay with me? I'm really shaken up.”

“Of course,” Peter promised. “I hope Karen's okay.”

“So do I. Turn left here.”

They'd pulled into the small, red brick complex where Michelle lived, and which Peter had visited only to drop her off after one of his monthly spanking parties. He'd had another girl with him at the time, making it impractical to explore their mutual feelings any further, but now there was no such obstacle. Michelle was shaking as he led her up to the tiny, one-bedroom flat. But she was obviously eager, kissing him as soon as they were through the door. Peter responded, easing her down onto the bed as she shrugged the jacket from her shoulders. He took one small breast in hand, stroking his thumb over her nipple, savoring the sensation as that nipple grew erect at his touch. Their kissing grew more passionate still, and her hand was already fumbling for his zip.

Michelle's legs had soon parted and Peter ached to mount her and fuck her. But she'd no sooner gotten his stiffening cock free of his trousers before she went down to take it in her mouth. He let her do it, watching the expression of bliss on her face, as if the comfort of suckling a warm, welcoming penis allowed all the cares and stress of the last hour to melt away. She was good too, using her tongue to rub on the underside of his shaft in a way that never failed to bring him to a rapid and happy climax, but that wasn't what he had in mind. Pulling her up from his cock, he made to mount her, only to have her wriggle around onto her knees, presenting him with the cleft peach of her bottom, the cheeks still red from her beatings, her cunt wet and inviting.

“Do me this way,” she sighed, “the way you like to. Spank me and fuck me and … and stick it in my bottom.”

That was a request Peter would happily oblige. Taking his cock in hand, he crawled into position behind her. She'd put her head down, making her ass the highest part of her body, with both openings on shameless offer and in desperate need.

Peter had enjoyed the effect his dirty talk seemed to have on her in the club, and he was more than happy to play that way again. “Cunt first, you little disgrace,” he grunted as he eased his cock into her wetness, his face split by a dirty, satisfied grin as he watched it enter. “Ohh, but that is good. You ought to see yourself, with your sweet pink ass up in the air and my cock in your pussy, you dirty little bitch.”

He began to fuck her, his cock squelching in the open, sopping hole of her pussy and his balls bouncing on her fingers where she'd begun to masturbate. He spanked her at the same time, slapping her cheeks to make them quiver and wobble.

“What a sight!” he laughed. “What a sight, you fat bottomed little slut! Just imagine, letting a man who's spanked you fuck you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. But oh no, not you. You stick your butt in the air and beg to be fucked, fucked by a man who's just spanked you, spanked you in front of a roomful of leering perverts! Michelle, you dirty bitch!”

She moaned, rubbing harder at her cunt as he fucked her, and babbling indistinct words that suddenly grew clear.

“… that's right, tell me what I am! A slut, a whore, and please … please … stick it up my backside!”

“Okay,” he promised, easing his cock free. “Up your bottom it goes, if you're really that dirty.”

Her vagina had stayed open, dribbling its slick down over her busy fingers as she masturbated. His cock came out engorged and slippery, and he lost no time in pressing the straining head to her anus, lubricating her with her own juice as the soft little hole spread to accommodate him. She felt tight and hot inside, although he surmised he was not the first man to have his cock in that place. She accommodated easily and he was soon in deep, holding her cheeks wide to show off the taut pink ring of her stretched bottom hole as it pulled back and forth over his cock.

“How many men have fucked you like this, you little slut?” he demanded. “Go on, tell me. How many cocks have you taken into this fat little peach, Michelle? How many men have you knelt for, with your backside stuck up in the air, begging for a cock deep in your hungry little hole? How many of them have spanked you, Michelle? How many have spanked your juicy little ass before they fucked it … ass fucked you and … cum deep inside you …”

He broke off, no longer able to speak as his orgasm rose up to explode in his head. His cock pulsed and pumped hot streams of cum into her bottom, just as she screamed out his name and he realized that they'd come together.

As he awoke, Peter's senses came together only gradually, at first puzzled as to where he was, then delighted and finally triumphant as he took in the pale blonde hair of the girl asleep beside him on the pillow, followed quickly by concern and a sinking feeling as the full details of the night before came back. It was nearly noon and he hastily swung his legs out of the bed as the possible consequences of the police raid crowded in for his attention. All they would get was the name he used for his clubs and parties, Peter Smith, unless they somehow managed to get hold of the number plate of his car, which seemed unlikely.

Nevertheless, there were going to be a lot of ruffled feathers that needed to be smoothed, and at the very least he was sure to lose a fair proportion of his paying guests. A minority were involved with the sex trade or simply free agents, but far more held respectable jobs or visited the club without their partner's knowledge. Then there were the ones he'd seen being put into the back of police vans, who were sure to blame him for their plight or at very least expect sympathy and support. Most important of all was Karen. Not only was she a friend, but she knew far more about him than anybody else who'd been there, even Michelle.

He was cursing softly as he left, saying goodbye to Michelle with a kiss on each cheek, including the two somewhat rosy ones sticking out where the cover had pulled free of her lower body. A swallow of coffee, a promise to be back as soon as he could, and he was gone, driving across South London to the Lambeth flat where Karen rented a room from another professional girl, Violet Campbell. As he parked the car he found himself glancing from side to side, but there was no sign of anybody who could be considered even remotely suspicious.

Karen herself answered the door and relief washed over him as he was invited inside. The sound of leathery smacks indicated that Violet was using the dungeon and Karen put a finger to her lips for quiet as Peter stepped inside. He nodded his understanding, then raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sound of an unmistakably feminine squeal of pain from beyond the dungeon door. Karen responded with a grin, but only when they were in the kitchen with the door closed behind them did Peter give her a kiss and finally speak up.

“Is Violet's client a woman?”

“She's training a new girl, very posh, very pretty. We were going to recommend her for the next spanking party.”

“New butts are always welcome, and posh and pretty sounds like a winning combination. Anyway, I am very glad to see you. I thought you'd been arrested.”

“Not me, no. Only the bar staff and that prat Master Jacobaeus, who kept mouthing off. There were two men who'd been there all along and they tried to claim I was on the staff, but I just denied it and eventually they let me go.”

“Trust Jake the Peg not to know when to back down,” Peter assented. “One of the men was watching me spank Michelle, just before the raid. He turned down a chance to play with her, but I thought he was just shy. What else do you know?”

“Not a lot. They made everybody sit down in little groups, with one officer standing over us while they took stuff away, all the bar takings and all the equipment, I'm afraid.”

“Damn! That'll cost the earth to replace.”

“You might be able to get it back, if the prosecution falls through.”

“So they're going to prosecute?”

“Yes, for breach of licensing and running a disorderly house.”

“Running a disorderly house!”

“Yes. The law goes right back to 1751, apparently, and can be used to prosecute anybody running any sort of event that threatens public morals. Apparently that's us.”

“Just us? After all, they run swinging events there too, and a gay cross-dress club.”

“I don't know. Maybe they just wanted to shut the venue down and we were unlucky?”

“Maybe, or they thought we were the easiest target.”

“Very likely. They expected everybody to slink off out of embarrassment, that's for sure.”

“Master Jacobaeus must have come as a bit of a shock then, and a few others, yourself included.”

“I decided it was better not to make a fuss. They were out for blood, especially after somebody slammed a door in a constable's face, somebody who was trying to get away over the rooftops.”

“I can't imagine who that might have been,” Peter responded, trying not to grin. “Michelle and I just slipped quietly away while nobody was looking.”

“I thought Michelle was with you. Did you …?”

“Did I sleep with her? Yes.”

“I thought you would, in the end. She's your type, isn't she?”

“Yes, and not just because she likes to be spanked. I really like her. She reminds me of my first serious girlfriend, only a lot less mixed up. Anyway, what to do about the club? I'm not sure whether to go ahead next month.”

“I think we ought to, but in a different borough, obviously.”

“That might not be enough, if the police have really got it in for us. They can pick up a flyer as easily as anyone else.”

“At least the spanking parties should be safe.”

“I hope so, but we'll have to tighten up the vetting procedure.”

“Make them take six-of-the-best before they can come,” Karen grinned. “I'll do it.”

“I bet you would, but you know what the old-school male spankers are like. Most of them think only girls should get it, so we'd lose three-quarters of them.”

“I wasn't suggesting caning the regulars, although I would love to do some of those old bastards in front of the girls they've just spanked. Imagine Mr. Appleby, in his headmaster's outfit, with all the girls giggling at him as …”

“I'd rather not, thank you,” Peter interrupted, trying to rid his mind of the picture she'd conjured up of the elderly, corpulent Appleby being prepared for the cane. “Ah, here's Violet.”

The dungeon door had opened and Violet stepped out, slimmer even than Karen and much taller, currently in a shiny ensemble of black rubber; stockings, mini-dress, long gloves and a hood that left only the pale oval of her face showing, while her long black hair had been pulled up through a hole on the top to make a high, lustrous pony-tail. Behind her was another girl, flushed and disheveled in a half open plaid shirt and a white mini-skirt, her face lit up with a bright, shy smile. She was young, certainly no more than college age, and blessed with a fine, feminine figure than had Peter nodding in immediate appreciation.

“Put the kettle on, sweetie. I'm parched,” Violet addressed Karen. “Hi Peter. This is my new pet, Sophie. Sophie, this is Master Peter.”

“Delighted,” Peter answered. “But you needn't worry about the Master business. I prefer sir, if anything.”

“Peter runs the spanking parties I was telling you about,” Violet continued. “Show him your bottom.”

Sophie blushed and pouted, but quickly turned to lift the back of her skirt, showing off the seat of a pair of brief, lacy white knickers with a good deal of cheeky flesh sticking out to either side. She was very red, and showed several bruises from her beating, although her now deeply embarrassed smile suggested that she'd thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

“With your panties down,” Violet instructed, now with a firm edge to her voice.

The hot blush coloring Sophie's face grew hotter still, but she did as she was told, pushing the back of her knickers down to show off her bare bottom and more bruising, along with two neatly laid tramlines where she'd been given the cane.

“Very pretty,” Peter remarked, “and you can obviously take it well.”

“She'd be perfect,” Violet assured him. “Come on, Sophie, stick it right out. Boys like to see a little bit of everything.”

Sophie made a face but once more did as she was told, turning a little and pushing her buttocks right out, her panties now held down around the middle of her thighs. The peachy split of her cunt was beautifully framed by her thighs and succulent cheeks, while the little star between the mounds was made abashedly vulnerable.

“Very nice,” Peter said, “and ever so obedient. Yes, you'd be very welcome at the next party, Sophie. I take it Violet has explained what happens?”

“Men get to spank me,” Sophie answered, pulling her knickers up at a nod from Violet. “They pay and I get a share of the gate.”

“Exactly,” Peter answered. “You'll generally take home around two-hundred, but you can make more if you want to do one-to-ones, or photosets, even video …”

“No, nothing like that,” Sophie said quickly. “Just the spankings.”

“Sophie's at college,” Violet explained, “and aims to be a respectable lawyer one day, so no photos, just plenty of spanking.”

“Cameras aren't allowed at the parties,” Peter assured Sophie. “But I can guarantee you all the spanking you can handle. You do realize though that you don't get to choose who deals with you? I do vet the guests and we keep things under control, but they expect their money's worth.”

“What sort of men do you get?” Sophie asked. She was hesitant but excited, which Peter liked to see. This dichotomy was something that Peter had long come to associate with girls who clearly enjoyed punishment and humiliation, but were still conflicted as to why.