Maid Service (9 page)

“I'm going to be nice to you, Katie,” Vicky was saying as Peter freed his cock from his fly. “Because you're being so good, but I still think you need a good spanking, and deep down I'm sure you'll agree.”

There was no response, save for the slight trembling of the flesh of Katie's perfect little cheeks. Vicky stroked her bottom, not even attempting to hide the pleasure she took in the smaller girl's body. Peter began to masturbate, his eyes glued to Katie's splayed rear view, and at the same moment the spanking began. Vicky started gently, using just her fingertips to apply quick, sharp pats to Katie's bottom, one cheek at a time. Unlike Emerald, Katie made no attempt at all to hold back, and was soon kicking her feet as the slaps grew firmer. Still, she did her very best to behave as Vicky had told her too, even cramming her panties back into her mouth when they accidentally fell out.

Only when Vicky began to use her whole hand full across Katie's cheeks did the spanking really begin to take effect, with the smaller girl's legs kicking up and down or scissoring wide to display the puffy, pink wetness of her pussy. Vicky merely tightened her grip and spanked harder, easily holding Katie in place despite her ever more frantic struggles. Soon the spanked girl had completely abandoned her efforts to accept her fate. She shook her head and thumped her fists on the bare wooden floor of the pavilion, her thighs pumping desperately and spread wide open without the slightest thought for the vulgar exhibition she was making of herself. When her panties tumbled from her mouth again she left them where they'd fallen and began to howl, letting her feelings out with all the unreasoning fury of a baby in a tantrum. The spanking stopped immediately, and Katie slumped prostrate to the floor, disoriented and whimpering. Vicky's mouth curved up into a small, cruel smile before she spoke.

“There we are. I think that's you done, Katie. What a fuss, but then you never pretended to be anything other than what you are. So then …”

She trailed off as Katie got to her feet, red faced and tearful, clutching her hot bottom in pain as she scampered back to her position against the wall. Peter had been on the very edge of orgasm when the spanking stopped and now closed his eyes, willing himself not to come at least until the next girl had been put across Vicky's knee.

“Christine next,” Vicky announced. “Come along, over my knee and get that little bare backside in the air.”

Christine gave Vicky a look of pure contempt and a defiant toss of her hair as she turned from the wall. She went over Vicky's lap without the slightest hesitation, pushing her bottom up as high as it would go in a gesture of impudent bravado that also served to flaunt her proud and puffy cunt and the tiny rosebud of her ass, as perfect, feminine and virginal as Tiffany herself or anything Peter could have imagined in his most fevered fantasies. With that, he came, unable to control himself as he jerked frantically at his erection with spurt after spurt of cum erupting out against the pavilion wall and down his hand. As he rode out his orgasm, Vicky had begun to spank Christine's perfect bottom, each firm little cheek bouncing as it was slapped and the tight pink eyelet of her ass puckering to the same lewd rhythm.

Peter imagined himself taking over the spanking, with the conceited little beauty held tight over his knee and spanked until she finally broke down and crawled to him to take his cock in her mouth and suck him, her smacked bottom thrust out behind and her blouse open to show off her pert tits. Or waiting until Vicky was done and then thrusting his cock deep into Christine's warm virginity as she was held in place, spanked and deflowered and flooded with cum. Or forcing himself into the pretty pink star of her backside to sodomize her as she was punished, his cock pumping in her rectum as her ass was slapped, before stuffing his engorged penis into her mouth to add a final, filthy detail to her humiliation.

He wasn't the only one to be overcome by Christine Arlington's perfect beauty or her arrogant refusal to give in to the humiliation of taking a spanking. Beside him at the window Hunter Rackman cursed in ecstasy. Further along Gardiner groaned and fell back, clutching at Porky Jupp's jacket as he lost his balance, to tumble onto the grass of the bank, his cock still pumping fluid. Porky swore as cum spattered his leg, swung one massive fist at Gardiner's face even as Tinknell leapt onto his back, and battle commenced.

Inside the pavilion Christine twisted around, her eyes locking directly with Peter's and her mouth instantly coming wide in a scream of furious indignation quickly matched by the other girls as they realized they were being watched. Peter hurled himself backwards, yelling for his companions to get clear even as he stumbled and sat down heavily on the rough grass. Some obeyed but others ignored him, a few of the cruder souls even staying at the window to laugh at the panic stricken girls as they frantically tried to shield their private parts from lecherous, inquisitive eyes.

Screams and shouts were ringing out on every side, with Jupp, Gardiner and Tinknell still fighting on the ground as Daniel and Hunter tried to haul the last of the others away from the windows. Peter had twisted his ankle but forced himself to his feet, taking hold of Porky's collar and struggling to pull him away and break up the fight even as Christine appeared around the side of the pavilion. She hurled herself at him, swearing, spitting and scratching, so that he was forced to defend himself. Vicky arrived, hauling Christine off her feet. Peter staggered back, turned for the trees and ran, only for his ankle to give way and land him face first in the grass. He twisted over, his arms up to defend himself from the furious Christine, but she was being held clear off the ground by Vicky, with her legs kicking out so violently that she was unwittingly giving nearly as fine a display of her bare pussy as she had when she'd been over the knee. She made her feelings clear in no uncertain terms.

“I'm going to kill you, you filthy beast! I'm going to kill you if it's the last thing I do! You … you …”

Her vocabulary appeared to be unequal to the task of expression her emotions, allowing Peter to speak as his sense of guilt got the better of him.

“I'm sorry, but look, let's not get caught, ok?”

“That's exactly what I was thinking,” Vicky agreed. “Come on, Chrissie, you said I could spank you and I never said there wouldn't be an audience.”

Christine seemed unimpressed by Vicky's logic, still babbling invective and struggling vigorously in her captor's grip even as she was hauled back down the bank. All the boys were now gone, Porky Jupp and Oliver Tinknell still trading punches as they disappeared into the trees. Of the other girls, only Tiffany remained close. Peter went to her quickly, kissed her, bade her goodnight and retreated up the bank, turning as he reached the trees to find her already far across the playing fields. So were Vicky and Christine, close behind the others, including Katie, who still had her skirt pinned up, affording Peter a final view of bobbing girlish butt cheeks before he fled the scene.

“We want girls,” Oliver Tinknell announced.

He was not a pleasant sight, tall, bulky running to fat, and with a complexion the color and texture of suet save for where a gang of angry red pimples had erupted on each cheek. Gardiner stood beside him, smaller but no more prepossessing; with the squat, muscular Vernon Mawby further back by the door to Peter's bedsit. The moment Gardiner's long, ugly and highly unwelcome face had appeared around the door, Peter had realized the visit meant trouble and that it was sure to have something to do with what had become known as the Great St. Monica's Spanking Show.

Even after returning safely to Broadfields, Peter had been convinced that everything would come out, leading to his expulsion. For three days he'd waited for the fateful summons to the Reverend Porter. But it never came and at last he'd begun to relax, increasingly convinced that Tiffany and Vicky had somehow managed to keep what had happened a secret between those involved. The more he thought about it the more sense it made, as the girls had broken the rules by smoking
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they'd clearly agreed to the spanking. So they'd be in serious disgrace no matter what else happened. The same was true among the boys, those who'd attended now sharing a wonderful secret that could never be divulged to an outsider. Only it now seemed that not everybody was satisfied with what they'd had.

“What do you mean, you want girls?” Peter demanded after a moment to take in Tinknell's question.

“We want girls,” Tinknell repeated. “You know, some of the girls from St. Monica's.”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?” Peter asked. “You saw Christine Arlington, and you heard what she said! You think I could set you up on a date with her?”

“Not a date,” Mawby said, leering. “Just a bit of how-do-you-do.”

“Just a bit of how-do-you-do?” Peter echoed. “What do you think I am, some sort of pimp?”

“Well, yeah,” Tinknell answered. “You set it all up with Tiffany Lange, didn't you?”

“Who told you that?” Peter asked cautiously.

“Everybody knows that,” Gardiner put in. “We're not stupid. Thompson's sister's at St. Monica's and she says the Head Girl's not even allowed to give spankings.”

“Don't give us any more bullshit, Finch,” Mawby added. “Or else you get thumped.”

“Be cool,” Peter answered, raising his hands as he tried to decide between risking the drop from his open window or wading in with his fists while yelling for his friends. “Okay, I set it up with Tiffs, but that doesn't mean the other girls will do as I tell them. They didn't even know we were watching, and they weren't exactly happy about it either, where they?”

“That's not our problem,” Tinknell answered.

“Come on boys, I'd love to help,” Peter lied. “But there's nothing I can do, and anyway, don't you think we ought to lie low for a bit, after what happened?”

“We want girls,” Tinknell insisted.

“And if you don't get them for us, you get thumped,” Mawby reiterated.

“I want that Katie Vale,” Gardiner put in. “She's pretty.”

“Lottie Mayfield,” Mawby said. “She's got the best tits.”

“Alice Shelley,” Tinknell finished. “She's like a little doll.”

“Jesus wept,” Peter despaired. “I can't do that. You must know I can't do that! Okay, Alice and Lottie are close with Tiffs, so maybe, just maybe, they'd be okay about being introduced to my friends, but not you ragtag bunch!”

“What's wrong with us?” Gardiner demanded as he contemplated the yield of a nasal extraction on one ink stained finger.

“Yeah,” Mawby put in. “Girls like men with a bit of beef, like John Wayne. And anyway, you owe us, me most of all. I didn't even get to watch the smackings.”

“You got lost in the woods,” Peter pointed out. “That's hardly my fault, and I definitely don't owe you, Gardiner, or you, Tinknell.”

“Yes you do,” Gardiner answered him. “We paid to watch six girls spanked and only three of them got it, two really.”

“You didn't pay anything!” Peter retorted.

“That's not the point. You promised we could watch six girls get punishment spankings, proper punishment spanking so they really howled …”

“They did howl!”

“I mean really howl, and we only got to see three, and it was a fix. That means you owe us, and if they're dirty enough to agree to get it bare in front of a load of boys, then they're dirty enough for a little extracurricular.”

“Yeah,” Mawby agreed.

“Yeah,” Tinknell added, “and if we don't get any, you get thumped.”

Peter drew in his breath, struggling for an answer, but before he could decide on what to say, two faces appeared in the doorway beyond Mawby—Stephen Richards and Hunter Rackman. Neither measured up to Tinknell or Mawby in sheer bulk, but both were tall and strong, while Hunter's reputation for dirty, vicious fighting was enough to make the largest of opponents think twice. Peter rallied, speaking first to his friends, then to the others.

“It's alright, boys. They were just leaving. Look, you idiots, if you want sex with a girl you have to sweet talk her, seduce her, you know, make her want it too. That or you have to pay for it. I can't do what you're asking, even if I wanted to, so just fuck off.”

Tinknell's face had begun to go dark with anger and he'd bunched one massive fist, only to turn away.

“We're not done,” he threatened as the three made for the door.

Peter stood at the landing window in the top passage of Grove House, looking out over the woods and fields. Five days had passed since the Great St. Monica's Spanking Show and still nothing had happened. He was growing increasingly restless and desperate to see Tiffany. The two expeditions he'd made to the old railway cutting had proved fruitless, while approaching the playing fields through the woods had been more frustrating still. She'd been there, playing hockey in her white blouse and the barely-there shorts that displayed every contour and lovely bulge to perfection, but there had been too many nuns around for him to dare an approach.

The only news of any kind had come via Ben Thompson's sister when their parents took the two of them out at the weekend, and that was a mixed blessing. It turned out that Thompson's sister was close friends with Katie Vale, who'd told her about the spanking. This meant that the secret was spreading through St. Monica's, but so far had not reached the nuns. Ben had also learned that the spanking hadn't really been a punishment, but Peter had refused to back down, insisting that the show, regardless of its inception, had been well worth the money. His friends had backed him up and the thirty pounds remained carefully hidden in his room, all his, save for what he owed to Tiffany and Vicky Trent. One way or another, he had to get into St. Monica's to see Tiffany, and with the end of term fast approaching it looked as if another nocturnal expedition was the only option.

“Finch?” Daniel Stewart asked as he came up the stairs behind Peter. “What are you doing in Top Corridor?”

“Staring out of the window,” Peter stated flatly. “Any news? Did Porter say anything at the school prefects' meeting?”

“No. He was ragging
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us about litter. We're safe. Nobody can say anything without giving the game away, girls or boys.”

“That's what I keep trying to tell myself, but I've got to see Tiffs.”

Daniel was about to reply but went quiet as Gardiner appeared on the stairs, throwing Peter a malicious and oddly triumphant sidelong glance as he passed. Worried for his money, Peter hurried down to his bedsit. There was no sign that his hiding place had been disturbed, but he'd definitely had a visitor and almost certainly Gardiner. On his bed lay the crushed and desiccated corpse of a rat and beside it was a note made of letters cut and pasted from a newspaper—“We get what we want, or Porter gets a letter”.

“How are you going to prove it, idiots,” Peter muttered to himself, but a sick feeling had begun to well up in his stomach.

Gardiner, Tinknell and Mawby were certainly capable of sending an anonymous letter to the Headmaster, and such an outrageous claim would surely be investigated. Rev. Porter would go to St. Monica's to talk to the Mother Superior, who in turn would talk to the girls. Peter was sure Tiffany could handle interrogation, and most of the others, except perhaps Alice and Katie. But other girls now knew, making it ever more likely that it would all be uncovered. Disaster would follow, and yet what his three schoolmates were asking was impossible. Clearly Tiffany needed to be warned, making a visit all the more urgent.

Evening prep seemed to last forever, and the recreation period longer still, but finally Broadfields had grown dark and quiet, allowing Peter to steal downstairs and out into the moonlit night. Following the familiar route down to the river and up the valley, he twice stopped at unexpected sounds, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck as he stood listening to the night, once thinking he could hear distant laughter. Always he pushed on, chiding himself for night fears and before long he was once more where the woods gave way to St. Monica's playing fields, faced with the challenge of breaking into the convent for a second time.

As before, it took a moment of reflection on his Uncle Charles' heroics before he found the courage to slip on his nun's outfit and make for the convent. Luck seemed to be on his side, at least at first. Nobody was in the laundry, but he'd soon gotten a window open and climbed inside to where the passages and stairways were empty and silent. In just minutes he was at Tiffany's door, but when he pushed it open he found her bed lying empty under pale moonlight streaming in between half open curtains.

His first thought was that she'd merely gone to the bathroom, but a minute passed, and a second with no sound but the occasional creak of a bedspring and, once, a gentle sigh from the room opposite. Peering close, he read the label on the door,
Shelley, A.
, making him wonder if Tiffany was with her friend and, if so, what they might be up to. Half excited, half guilty, he eased the door open, his eyes growing wide as he took in the dimly lit scene within.

On a bed just off to the side were two girls on top of each other, stark naked, their bodies pale in the low light, Charlotte's bouncy bottom spread to Alice's face, both licking eagerly between the other's thighs, their cunts wet with juice and each other's saliva. Neither had noticed the open door, and for a long moment Peter feasted his eyes on the spectacle, watching in ever greater fascination and arousal as Alice's tongue flicked over the folds of Charlotte's cunt, then moved higher. Charlotte giggled as her friend's tongue touched her anus and twisted her head around to chide Alice for being so dirty, then froze as she saw Peter, her mischievous expression switching to guilt and horror.

“Um … I'm not a nun,” he ventured, unsure what the polite thing to say would be in the circumstances. “It's me, Peter Finch. Uh … do you know where Tiffs is?”

Alice had seen him too and with that the girls came to life, twisting around and burrowing in under the covers, even their heads concealed as Charlotte answered him, her voice painfully embarrassed.

“She's with Vicky, at the top of the next staircase. Now go away.”

“Of course, sorry,” Peter replied and withdrew.

His heart was hammering in his chest and his cock was rock hard, while the image of the pretty, delicate Alice with her tongue extended to lick her friend's bottom burnt in his brain. More urgent to get to Tiffany than ever and praying that Vicky's presence wouldn't be a problem, he quickly made his way down one stairway and up the next, eventually reaching a tiny landing with a single door marked
Trent, V. – Head Girl
. He could hear the girls talking within, their voices hushed and excited. Deciding against a tactful knock, he eased the door open, to find Tiffany and Vicky seated side by side on the bed. They still had their nighties on, but their faces were scarcely less horror struck than those of Alice and Charlotte. Tiffany recovered first.

“Peter! I thought you were a penguin!”

“I'm not,” he assured her. “Only dressed as one.”

“If you ever, ever do that again I am going to kill you,” Vicky promised.

“Fair enough,” Peter agreed. “Sorry about that, but I had to come and it's the best way to get in. Maybe this will make up for the shock?”

He'd reached in under his habit to extract fifteen one pound notes from his trouser pocket. She accepted them eagerly and hid them away beneath her mattress as Peter bent to kiss Tiffany. Her response was as warm and yielding as ever, to his great relief after what had happened at the pavilion. But when he let his hand stray to the curve of one pert breast, Vicky gave a dismissive cough.

“You can do that later, you dirty little boy. What I want to know is, how come there were so many of you at the pavilion? We said seven and there must have been … well, fifteen if you've paid me fairly.”

“Eighteen,” Peter told her. “Nineteen if you count me. There were some freeloaders. Sorry about that. It all got a bit out of hand, unfortunately. What about at your end? Are we safe?”

“Safe enough,” Vicky assured him. “It's got out around the girls a bit, but nobody's going to tell the penguins. How can they prove it anyway? I'd just deny it and they'd be the ones who ended up in trouble.”

“Good,” Peter sighed. “It was a great show. You were ace. I'm only sorry you didn't get to finish. Oh, and how did the competition work?”

“I changed that,” Vicky told him as he and Tiffany cuddled up together on the bed. “I couldn't think of a way to make it a competition without giving the game away, but it was a real spanking.”

“I gathered that. The fuss Emerald made! Did you just punish them then? Hannah Thompson said that wasn't allowed.”