Maid to Order

by Penny Birch

  ‘No!’

  I cried out loud, determined not to do it, and forced my mind on to something else, my own rude rear view. My hand was cupped on my pussy and my bottom stuck out to the mirror, my spanked cheeks open to show off the tiny pink star of my bumhole and my fingers where I was holding myself. I was so wet my juices were running down my thighs, with my flesh pink and glistening as I slipped two fingers in to spread my hole. That looked so rude, and I tried to imagine holding myself that way for a man while he got his cock ready to put in me, but it wasn’t a man who’d got me that way. It was Danielle, the vicious, evil bitch who’d held me down and spanked me, who’d taken down my jeans and would have had my knickers down too if Dad hadn’t turned up. I’d have been spanked bare bottom and she’d have seen exactly how I was reacting, and if Summer had come in she’d have seen too, both of them laughing at me as my bum cheeks bounced and my juices splashed ...

  There was nothing I could do about it; I was going to come over my punishment. I cried out again, a raw, broken sob at the thought of what had been done to me: spanked by my stepmother and on that awful word I came, while frigging myself off, utterly ashamed of myself even as I watched my own busy fingers snatching at my pussy with the juice squashing out and my bumhole squeezing as my muscles contracted in a long, hard orgasm.

  My legs were shaking badly as I came, as much from emotion as the strength of my climax. The moment I’d finished I sat down on the loo, biting my lip with shame as I pulled out some loo paper. As I cleaned myself up I was acutely conscious of the feel of my hot, bare cheeks on the cold wood; it kept what had been done to me and what I’d done afterwards fixed firmly in my head. At least there were consolations, and I tried to concentrate on them. For one thing nobody need ever know that I’d masturbated, least of all Danielle, which would have been really unbearable. Better still, Summer hadn’t come in from the garden. Despite the situation I liked her, and she looked up to me. Being spanked in front of her would have been the final straw.

  Eventually I got up and went back to the mirror to make sure it wasn’t obvious I’d been crying. I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Dad and Danielle when they were together, so I intended to sneak into the garden and find Summer, but I was called down before I even crossed the landing.

  Dad’s tone sounded doubtful, making me wonder if she might have told him about my spanking, and even made him agree to let her discipline me. As I walked down the stairs, I was desperately trying to think how to get out of it if she had. Even admitting to my visits to the Rathwells was no good, because if I mentioned Morris’s name first, all she had to then do was deny everything.

  Dad was smiling, but he looked as doubtful as he sounded. Danielle was smiling too, like a crocodile. I tried to sound casual.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Dad begun to drum his fingers on the table. ‘We were thinking about the rest of your year off.’

  ‘New York?’ I opened my mouth without engaging my brain. Had Danielle persuaded Dad to get rid of me by letting me take up Hudson Staebler’s offer of summer work in the States? He gave a long sigh and my hopes sank once more.

  ‘No, Jem, we’ve been through that already.’

  ‘Europe then.’

  ‘No, Jemima. Danielle has a much better idea.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My uncle is the manager of a hotel on the south coast,’ she said, and I knew I was in trouble just from the tone of her voice. ‘I’ve got you a place as a maid.’

  ‘A maid!’

  ‘Yes, a maid,’ she answered and quickly turned to Dad. ‘It would do her a lot of good, Jeremy. Teach her about real life for a start. You’ve been far too soft with her and I’m not being harsh. It’s for her own good.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, darling,’ he answered, but I could tell he had his doubts.

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘I do think it would be a good idea, Jemima, just for a few months, and then we can talk about Europe for next year, when you’re a little older and you’ve had a term at university.’

  ‘And there’s also the expense to think about,’ Danielle broke in. ‘Your trip would cost your poor dad several thousand pounds, and everybody’s having to tighten their belts at the moment. This way you’ll be earning your own money and learning to stand on your own two feet.’

  ‘But I don’t want to be a maid! I don’t need to work, and there must be dozen of girls who do, so it’s really not fair.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ she interrupted. ‘Really, Jemima, it’s for your own good. You must learn to stand on your own two feet.’

  My mouth came open to protest that I had been standing on my own two feet when I was in the States, but I could hardly admit to what I’d been up to, let alone what I would have been up to if Aunt Penny hadn’t ruined it for me. As it was I had to bite my tongue while she went on about how privileged my childhood had been and how much I’d benefit from a taste of the real world, until I finally managed to get a word in edgeways. Even then my every protest was ignored as the summer I’d been looking forward to for so long was destroyed bit by bit. The fact that I’d got a good place at uni didn’t matter, nor that Dad had plenty of money, nor that the whole thing was just completely unfair.

  I even came close to telling Dad about the spanking parties and hoping to catch Danielle out. He knew Morris, and had some idea of what he got up to, but was blissfully unaware of my involvement. There would be real trouble, but there was no way I could prove Danielle knew what went on, and I didn’t even know what the connection was. It was just too risky. I was going, and that was that.

  Chapter Two

  Here’s what I don’t understand. If I take a job, a really boring, tedious job that means being bossed around by a lot of stuck-up people and doing all the really crap work they can’t be bothered with, and work a full week, and they only pay me one hundred and sixty-nine pounds and forty-four pence before deductions, which was what I was going to be getting at the Friston Executive, and I’m supposed to be proud of myself. Alternatively, I can work one evening a month, getting my bottom smacked in front of a load of dirty old men, and, OK, maybe tossing one or two of them off, for a cool five hundred pounds plus tips and no deductions, and I’m supposed to be ashamed of myself. Why?

  The argument that always gets trotted out is that providing sexual services is degrading, but that’s just bullshit. Seriously, what’s more degrading; having to clean the toilets in a big hotel, or dancing about in my knickers while a load of men try to get me drunk on champagne? Mopping up after a party of drunken chavs or being put over another woman’s knee, given a slow sexy spanking and being brought to orgasm under her fingers? You prefer mopping up? You can keep it, and if that makes you proud I feel sorry for you.

  I certainly didn’t feel proud of myself as we drove down to the south coast, and I did feel very sorry for myself. Danielle had wanted me to go by train and bus, on my own, but the very difficulty of getting to the place had meant that for once she didn’t get her way. Then she’d suggested driving me herself, but Dad and Summer had both wanted to come and wouldn’t be put off. For some reason that was making her nervous and snappy, and when we stopped for petrol and Dad got out of the car she told me to grow up and stop sulking. I felt I had every right to sulk, and told her so. She had completely ruined the end of my year off, and was obviously getting a kick out of making my life miserable, because if she just wanted me out of the way it would have been better to let me go to Europe.

  She and I hardly spoke all the rest of the way, but it was only as we got close that I realised how completely she’d spoiled things. I’d looked up the Friston Executive on the net and it had seemed quite nice: a big, spacious three-star hotel in its own grounds and right on the beach. What I hadn’t realised was that it didn’t just have its own grounds, it had its own valley, in a dip between two huge, bare hills without another house in a mile and five miles to the nearest town. It was a quarter of a mile just from the road to the
actual hotel, with gates to close off the drive and the entrance to the car park.

  We parked by the beach, which turned out to be a strand of enormous flints at the bottom of a twenty-foot chalk cliff. Dad seemed to be impressed, stretching his arms out and taking a deep breath of air.

  ‘Ah ... smell that! I love the sea. You are a lucky girl, Jem. Just think, all summer at the beach.

  I peered over the edge. There was a stair, of sorts, but just looking at it gave me vertigo, while as far as I could tell the smell Dad seemed to be enjoying was a mixture of rotting seaweed and very dead fish. Summer was equally unimpressed, wrinkling her nose and throwing me a knowing look as Dad admired the scenery. Along the beach in both directions, the dirty white cliffs rose higher, with the same drab grey shingle stretching to the limit of vision, where headlands jutted out to East and West. It was all very sunny and calm, but the trees planted to shelter fields in the valley bottom were bent away from the wind, showing that it could be as bleak and miserable as I felt inside.

  The only building I could see was the hotel: a central whitewashed block three stories tall between a sprawl of single-storey wooden terraces, joined together by walkways, which continued to a line of chalets half hidden among the trees by a field. There had to be fifty or sixty rooms, and I could see that cleaning them was going to be a nightmare, never mind what else I might be expected to do; waitressing perhaps, bar work, laundry, and all the tedious jobs I’d worked so hard until now to avoid.

  Danielle had seemed reluctant to get out of the car, but finally did so, joining us at the edge of the cliff. ‘Hadn’t we better be on our way, Jeremy darling?’

  ‘There’s no rush,’ he answered, glancing at his watch. ‘I could do with a coffee, and don’t you want to say hello to your uncle?’

  ‘I don’t think he’s here today, and it’s a long way home.’ She sounded more nervous than ever, making me wonder what was going on, but Dad started towards the hotel and she had little choice but to follow. It was warm and she was showing off as usual, in a crop-top with little red shorts that left half her bum showing, sandals, and sunglasses pushed back on her head. Seeing her like that made me wonder if she got spanked, maybe by Morris himself, and if so, how I could find out for certain and turn the tables on her. No doubt she knew that was a risk, which seemed to be another good reason for shutting me away, only it wasn’t.

  It wasn’t because I’d met the man who was now walking towards us, beaming cheerfully as he embraced Danielle and then Summer, shook hands with Dad and favoured me with a knowing smirk. Shorter than me by at least two inches, but maybe twice my weight, his pear-shaped body topped by a head like a Halloween pumpkin decorated with a thick beanfeaster moustache, he was unmistakable: Mr Hegedus. Who I’d last seen tugging at a thick brown-skinned penis while begging me to take my knickers down so that he could get off over my bare bum instead of the panty show I’d promised him.

  ‘Ah, Danielle, but it’s been too long since you last saw your old uncle Vilmos, and you too, Summer. And Mr Bassington-Smyth, it is an honour to meet you, sir. And this must be Jemima, who will be working for us? What a pretty girl. Wonderful, wonderful.’

  He recognised me, he had to, even though I was the wrong way round, but he gave no sign of it whatsoever. Danielle did, throwing me a look compounded of panic and threat as Dad walked forward. I ignored her, but I was trying to work out what it might mean if Mr Hegedus was her uncle and I was quickly coming to some extremely interesting conclusions. He had to have told her about me, for one thing, which suggested a very odd conversation for an uncle to be having with his niece. It also suggested that he was the driving force behind my being offered the job, and if that was true I was back in the driving seat.

  ‘We are delighted to train Jemima,’ he was saying as he led the way inside, his Eastern European accent now faint as he did his best to play the respectable hotel manager.

  It had been a very different tone of voice before, so thick with excitement that I’d barely been able to understand him, as he begged me to show off for him. He’d tipped well too. So desperate was he to get his schoolgirl strip and panty show, he’d hardly been able to count out the notes as he passed them over. I’d stuck them in my stocking top, so that he could see what he’d paid as I danced for him and had it right in his face as I peeled down my knickers with him wanking dementedly as his chubby little cock.

  He was very friendly, offering us drinks and a tour of the hotel, while Danielle constantly and desperately tried to find excuses to leave. I was sure he knew exactly what was going on, because his moustache kept twitching into a half smile, but Dad played his unconscious part superbly, accepting everything as Danielle squirmed in discomfort, while she’d obviously been hoping they wouldn’t meet. Not that she had anything to worry about, because the last thing he was going to do was tell his new maid’s father what he had in mind for her, and that was very clear. I wasn’t worried, because I knew I could handle him, but there was going to have to be some negotiation.

  We got the grand tour, at least of the main building, and I was introduced to two of my fellow staff: Chris, the barman, and Stefan, the head waiter. Chris didn’t look more than twenty. He was in a smart blue uniform, but still managed to seem casual with his mop of sandy-coloured hair and a companionable smile. Stefan was older and had cropped his hair to hide advancing baldness, giving him a sinister look, menacing even. I could easily imagine him as a spanker, but Chris looked strictly vanilla. I was sure I’d find out, if I wanted to, because I seemed to be the only girl around, leading me to ask Mr Hegedus a cautious question. ‘There’s somebody to do the cleaning and stuff, isn’t there?’

  ‘All that is on contract with a firm from Eastbourne. It’s more efficient. You’ll do a little, though, in between assisting myself and my staff.’

  We were going to have to see about that, but I simply nodded. Danielle was looking at her watch again.

  ‘We really should be getting back, Jeremy darling.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose we had better make a start.’

  He swallowed what remained of his coffee and kissed me.

  ‘Be good, Jem. Or if you can’t be good, be careful.’

  It was one of those embarrassing things he’d been saying to me and Pippa since we turned teenagers, but he had no idea. I smiled and hugged him, feeling a little homesick as Danielle hurried him out to the car to leave me standing under the porch with Mr Hegedus. There was nobody else about and it seemed sensible to sort out where I stood as quickly as possible, so I swallowed my feelings and asked him a straight question.

  ‘I suppose you expect to spank me?’

  He was taken aback, but only for a second. ‘Yes, yes, why not? Each day I will inspect your work. If it is not good enough, hot botty for baby, yes?’

  He’d used the same infantile phrase at Morris’s party. At the time I’d been just about to go over Melody’s knee and he’d really brought home the situation I was in, making me blush. I found my cheeks colouring again, but rallied quickly.

  ‘Oh no you don’t. If you want me over your knee then I don’t have to work, and that’s that.’

  ‘Not possible. I pay. You work. And maybe a little something extra if you are a good girl.’

  ‘You’re a dirty old pervert, do you know that?’

  ‘Why a pervert? You are a beautiful girl. I am a man. I like to see beautiful girls bare naked.’

  ‘You like to spank them,’ I replied, not certain if he knew I liked it, but fairly sure he thought I’d only take it from him in return for something.

  He merely shrugged, indifferent, and I went on. ‘And if you expect to spank me it’s going to be on my terms. I get a nice room, I come and go as I please and nobody gets to tell me what to do. For that you get to spank me once a week.’

  ‘Impossible! You have a good room, yes, but you must work like all the others and for the right wage, which is not my business.’

  ‘Oh? Whose business is it then?’


  ‘The owner. Mr Rathwell.’

  ‘Morris owns the hotel!?’

  ‘Yes, and you must do your work. Any extra you want to earn, well then ...’

  He patted my bottom, although his shifty expression made it very clear what he meant anyway, but I wasn’t finished.

  ‘OK, so Morris is the big boss and I guess I’ll have to talk to him about my wages and stuff, but you and I can come to a little private arrangement, can’t we? I don’t mind helping with the bar and waitressing, but no toilets or scrubbing the floor or anything like that, OK? Promise me that and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a panty show like I did before. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  He was going red in the face and I thought I’d won, only for him to shake his head. ‘Yes, I love your panty show, but you must work, or what will Mrs Hegedus think? She will think we are ...’ He made a rude sign, sticking one finger though a circle made with the other hand, which was far further than I intended going, but that wasn’t the problem.

  ‘Mrs Hegedus? I didn’t know you were married?’

  ‘Oh yes. Here my wife cooks. Harriet kitten, come and meet Jemima, our new maid.’

  He’d turned to look back into the hotel and I did the same, to find the biggest woman I had ever seen advancing on us. She had a face like a pudding, and it was set in a suspicious frown, as if she’d heard every word we’d said. My hands went to protect my bottom by instinct, and just to look at her made me feel weak. She was vast, taller than me and enormously fat, with her massive hips and thighs, her great, bulging belly and colossal breasts straining the white cook’s coat in every direction. It wasn’t all fat though; she had the shoulders of a wrestler and the arms to match. I gave her my sweetest smile. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Hegedus ... er, Harriet.’