Maid Service

by Peter Birch

  The achievement made the Reverend Porter’s vindication of the philosophy implicit in St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians seem even more trivial and irrelevant than it would normally have done, and yet the Headmaster’s pious, self-satisfied manner added a certain something to his sense of triumph. He knew that even his Uncle Charles could not have faulted his courage and determination, while his adventure matched anything he’d read in even the most lurid and uninhibited of magazines. Imagining the furious indignation of the nuns, had they discovered what he’d done, made his success sweeter still. One corner of his mouth twitched up into a faint smile at the thought, only for his reverie to be interrupted by the voice of the Reverend Porter.

  “And perhaps Mr. Finch would care to favor us with his own opinion on this matter, unless, that is, he considers the prospect of today’s lunch more important than Christian teachings?”

  “I have an alternative philosophy,” Peter answered. “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law”.”

  It took the Headmaster a moment to recognize the quote, so that his smug expression changed first to puzzlement, then to a red faced fury that rendered him speechless for several seconds before he once more found his voice and his customarily sarcastic tone.

  “Crowley, I see. I am surprised that even you could have sunk to such depths, Finch. But no, I see that you are merely trying to annoy me, and you have succeeded. So I propose that you spend those hours of the afternoon, normally reserved for cricket, in clearing the river banks of weeds, which should allow you ample time for reflection on philosophy. Howard, you have at least a modicum of intelligence. Perhaps you could explain to me why St. Paul’s remarks are so important?”

  His attention had already moved on from Peter, who didn’t respond in any case, equally happy to be on grounds duty as playing cricket, with the thoughts of the previous night’s triumph more than enough to sustain him. By the time Gabriel Howard had completed his explanation, Peter’s attention had wandered again, with his gaze fixed firmly out of the window, where it remained until the bell signaled the end of morning lessons. He continued to daydream through lunch and afternoon lessons, and was still smiling in a vague and dreamy fashion as he made his way towards the main gate to report for grounds duty. The afternoon was hot and sultry, so he made a point of volunteering to be one of those who actually went into the river, which not only allowed him to keep cool but gave his thoughts free rein as he worked mechanically, cutting back reeds and nettles on the bank.

  Made bold by his success, he’d soon moved on from simply replaying the details of his adventure to considering new ones, including further visits to the convent and turning his dream of a group spanking into reality. The pavilion at the end of the grounds was the perfect venue, but the problem of persuading the girls to participate without allowing the costs to grow too large remained. In turn he considered the possibilities of blackmail, physical coercion and tricking the girls into thinking they were taking a genuine punishment, only to reject each as either impractical or unworthy. But as he attacked a particularly obstinate tangle of vegetation he hit on a scheme he was sure would tempt even the shyest or most haughty of girls by appealing to what he identified as typically feminine traits—avarice and vanity.

  ♦♦♦♦

  Tiffany sighed as her bottom hole again began to spread to the pressure of Peter’s cock. She knelt in the long, warm grass of the old railway cutting, her red tartan school skirt turned up onto her back and her big white panties pulled far down to leave the cheeky peach of her bottom exposed for entry. She’d also had her blouse pulled open and her bra turned up to display her breasts, while the ring of her anus glistened with the Vaseline she’d thoughtfully applied before leaving the convent for their rendezvous. Peter was in heaven, enjoying every exquisite sensation, from the tightness of her straining musculature and the wet heat of her insides to the cruel joy he’d taken in her half-eager, half-reluctant surrender to the second butt fucking of her young life.

  She’d begun to cry as he gradually eased the full length of his erection into her bottom. Soft, broken sobs rich with mixed emotion, and yet there was no mistaking the tone of her low purr of satisfaction as his balls finally met the flesh of her empty cunt. He’d already spanked her, responding to her earlier teasing by turning her across his knee to have her bottom exposed and smacked, gently enough at first but then harder once he’d discovered that, for all her protests about taking his cock in her ass, she’d greased herself in readiness for exactly that. Now he began to spank again, making each round, red cheek bounce and quiver to the slaps as he moved inside her.

  Now, spanked and fucked with equal vigor, she began to gasp and whimper, hot tears streaming down her face even as she put a hand back to rub at her pussy. Peter grinned at her reaction, unsure as ever what was going through her head, but enjoying every sigh and every moan almost as much as he enjoyed the sight of her spread and penetrated bottom, or the exquisite sensation of having his erection sheathed in hot girl flesh. All he needed was one final touch to make the situation perfect—the dirty talk he knew would take them both over the edge.

  “That’s right,” he told her. “Rub your little cunt like the dirty whore you are, Tiffany. You can’t stop yourself, can you? Your knickers are down and my cock’s deep in your backside and what do you do? You play with your cunt. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, but oh no, not you, Tiffany. You grease up your ass, ready and willing, and I bet you put in a finger or two when you did it, didn’t you? I bet you did, thinking it was my cock inside you, just the way you are now, with your skirt hitched up and your knickers pulled down, you little disgrace, you cock-tease, you … oh but I love you so much, Tiffany!”

  He couldn’t hold back any more. His words merged into grunts as he came again in her ass, finishing off with a series of sudden, powerful thrusts that made her scream and tipped her over the edge. For one perfect moment they were coming together, with his cock jammed into her bottom as deep as it would go, while her anus contracted hard on his shaft over and over again to milk the full contents of his balls into her rectum. She seemed to be in agony as her orgasm tore through her, screaming and sobbing and clutching at herself, only to finish with a long, happy sigh as she finally slumped down into the grass. Her bottom was still pushed high and Peter took a moment to extract his erection, grinning once more at the sight of the cum bubbling from her wet, pink hole as it closed and giving her a final, firm slap before rolling over in the grass.

  “That was great!” he sighed. “Give me your knickers, would you? I need to wipe my cock.”

  “You’re a filthy pig, Peter Finch,” Tiffany replied, but even as she turned over she was levering her panties down and off.

  Peter took the white cotton panties and began to wipe himself clean as Tiffany produced a wad of tissues from somewhere within her disheveled apparel. For a long moment they were silent, each concentrating on tidying up, until Peter was satisfied with his efforts and had tossed her now soiled panties to one side.

  “I think I’ve worked out how to do the group spanking,” he told her.

  “That was just a fantasy, wasn’t it?” she answered.

  “So was spanking you in front of my friends, but we did that.”

  “Okay, but how? I don’t want to get caught, Peter, and you take awful risks, like coming to me the other night.”

  “It was worth it, every second, and besides, I don’t intend to get caught. I take risks, yes, but calculated risks. First of all, we use the pavilion at the end of your sports field, and in the evening. That way we can see anybody coming in plenty of time.”

  “That ought to work.”

  “It will work, but the clever part is this. To make sure we get plenty of girls, we make it a competition, with a cash prize.”

  “A competition for what?” Tiffany laughed. “Getting spanked!?”

  “Making the prettiest exhibition,” Peter expl
ained. “All the St. Monica’s girls are vain, and all of them appreciate the value of money. Furthermore, enough girls are either cruel enough to want to watch each other get it, or like you, they enjoy getting it.”

  “Not all the girls are …” Tiffany began, then trailed off, her expression of instinctive resentment for his words shifting to a doubtful frown before she carried on. “Okay, it might work, with some of the girls. Alice would join in, and Charlotte, if the prize was big enough. But they’re my friends and they have to know that there are boys watching.”

  “Alright, if that doesn’t scare them off, but we need more than three of you. What about Christine Arlington?”

  “Not with boys watching, but then I don’t care if she knows or not. In fact, I’d like to go through with it and tell her afterwards.”

  “Wouldn’t she tell the penguins?”

  “Not when she’d allowed herself to be spanked for kicks! I’d be in worse trouble than she would, but not so much. One thing I can promise, any girl who goes through with it won’t tell, not then, not ever.”

  “That’s good to know. How about Emerald Feldkirch?”

  “Oh she’d do it, just to show off.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. How about Princess Ayanna?”

  “Ha, ha, very funny. She blushes when she gets changed for games.”

  “Katie Vale? She’s pretty, and she seems ready enough to have her bottom smacked.”

  “Katie?” Tiffany responded doubtfully. “Maybe, I suppose … She’ll do as she’s told anyway.”

  “Perfect,” Peter stated. “So that’s five for sure: you, obviously, Katie, Emerald, Alice and Charlotte, six if we can get Christine. That should keep the boys happy.”

  He blew his breath out, imagining the six girls with their bottoms on parade as they awaited their spankings. Tiffany gave him a reproving look and a dig in the ribs with her elbow, but she was smiling mischievously.

  “So who gets to do the spanking?” she asked.

  “That’s up to you,” he told her. “But we definitely need two girls, one to pin up the girls’ skirts and pull down their knickers, another to do the spanking. And the boys have to believe that they’re actually nuns. Can you think of a couple of big, plain girls who’d get a kick out of smacking the pretty one’s bottoms?”

  Tiffany made a face, but then nodded.

  “Rosa Mulligan would do it,” she assured him. “She threatened to sit on Christine’s face for calling her fatty the other day; and then there’s Victoria Trent. She’s not so very big, but she’s tall, she’s Head Girl and she loves to smack our bottoms.”

  “Is she safe?”

  “Oh yes. She’s just good at fooling the penguins. They even think she’s going to become one of them, but what she really wants is to go into finance like her father.”

  “Excellent, as long as the other girls can be persuaded to take it from them?”

  “Not Christine, I wouldn’t think, not from Rosa anyway. The others will be okay.”

  “Okay, never mind Christine, although I would love to see her get it.”

  “So who does the judging? I can’t, not if I’m being spanked.”

  “That’s true, and we can’t lose you. You’re too pretty, and besides, I already told my friend Ben you were going to be punished. Charlotte, Alice and Ayanna too. I think I said six girls, actually, so maybe we do need one more.”

  “You could say Ayanna got let off, or was ill, but what about the judging?”

  “Why not Vicky Trent? She can do the skirts and knickers and judge too. She could even pretend to be the one who’s putting up the prize.”

  “That’s true. Even Christine might go for it if she thought it was Vicky’s idea.”

  “Even with big Rosa doing the spanking?”

  “No, but she might let Rosa get her backside bare if Vicky was doing the spanking. Christine’s always been soppy on Vicky.”

  Peter shook his head, trying to rid his mind of images of lesbian schoolgirls, then carried on.

  “Brilliant, now you just need to talk her into it, and the others. Hang on, what if we let Vicky Trent in on the scheme and make sure she gives you the prize? That way we get our investment back, or most of it anyway. Do you think she’d do that?”

  “Yes, but it would probably be best if you talk to her. She’d think I was making it up, or trying to get her in trouble with the penguins.”

  Tiffany’s voice had faltered as she spoke and she was blushing, arousing Peter’s curiosity.

  “Why’s that? Tell me.”

  “Or what?” Tiffany answered, her face now flushed pink but the challenge in her voice unmistakable.

  “Another spanking?” Peter suggested, but Tiffany merely laughed.

  “Your knickers stuck up your backside?” he went on, recalling a particularly dirty moment from one of the few blue films he’d seen. “Half way up anyway. I’d leave a little tail hanging out and send you back to St. Monica’s like that.”

  “Pig.”

  “Tell me about Vicky and I won’t do it.”

  “Do it and I won’t tell you about Vicky.”

  “Okay, your knickers stuck in your mouth, then.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “I would,” Peter replied, reaching for the discarded panties.

  “Okay, okay,” Tiffany said hastily, her face redder than ever. “I used to be Vicky’s toasty girlvi, but …”

  “What’s a toasty girl?”

  “You know, a girl who warms up another girl’s bed for her … In other words, someone who … helps her out when she’s feeling … dirty. Don’t you boys do something like that Broadfields?”

  “Not normally, no,” Peter answered and quickly changed the subject back to more fruitful ground. “So Vicky used to take you to bed, for what?”

  “Oh, you know, she’d make me fiddle with her cunt and kiss her tits.”

  “Did she spank you?”

  “Yes, of course, and if I was really badly behaved she’d sit on my face and make me lick her cunt and … and her other hole.”

  Peter gave a hollow moan and put his hand to his cock, which had begun to swell again, his eyes shut as he pictured the look of consternation and horror on Tiffany’s face as the bigger girl squatted down to have her bottom licked. It was immensely appealing and unspeakably rude at the same time, maybe too rude.

  “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?” he said.

  “No,” she assured him. “Vicky was the one who taught me how nice it is to fiddle with myself, and to put things in my bottom. I was her toasty girl for two terms, and of course she used to punish me. That’s just the way it is. Usually it would be a spanking, across her knee with my skirt turned up for a few smacks on my knickers before she pulled them down, just the way you like to do me. Sometimes she’d use her hairbrush instead of her hand, but if I’d been really insolent, or if she was in a dirty mood, then she’d put her bum in my face. I used to hate it, and I used to love it too. How dirty is that? Then Christine told her I used to play with Alice, because Christine had a crush on Vicky and wanted to be her toasty girl instead of me. Vicky got jealous and she doesn’t really trust me now, but if you speak to her she’ll know it’s for real.”

  Tiffany went quiet for a moment, then began to talk again, her voice now soft and urgent.

  “Vicky punished us together, Alice and me, after she found out. She caught us and dragged us into the showers, where she made us kneel side by side, in our clothes but with our skirts up and our knickers pulled down. Then she spanked us, with her hand first, then she rubbed our cunts with toothpaste, and put her fingers up our bottom holes to make it sting and got back to the spanking with a big wooden bath brush. It hurt so much and I cried and cried. Poor Alice wet herself, right into her splayed knickers, but Vicky just laughed. Then she came to stand over me,
and she made me watch while she lifted her skirt and pulled her knickers aside. She told me she was going to piddle on me, and then she did it, all over my butt and all over my back and in my hair and in my face. She even made me open my mouth so she could pee in it, and she made me swallow, and …”

  “Now I know you’re teasing,” Peter broke in. “But I swear that if you don’t shut up right now my cock’s going back in your bum.”

  Tiffany laughed and jumped to her feet, sticking her tongue out at him before running away. Peter gave chase, but before he could catch her she’d turned, putting her hands out in a defensive gesture as she spoke.

  “No, please, I’m too sore, not now.”

  “Okay,” Peter agreed, privately relieved for the dull ache in his now stiff cock. “Just turn around and stick out your bottom.”

  Tiffany stuck out her lower lip in a sulky pout but did as she was told, pushing her bottom out so that he could lift her skirt and land a single hard smack across her bare cheeks. She responded with a yelp, then smiled and reached out for his hand as they continued along the cutting.

  “We could talk to Vicky now, if you like?” she suggested. “She’s playing hockey this afternoon, but we can wait til she’s finished, if you’ve got time?”

  “I can make time,” Peter answered after an instant to weigh the loss of missing dinner against the gain of watching girls play hockey in their gym knickers and singlets. “I’ll stay back in the woods if you can get her after the game.”

  Tiffany nodded and they walked on, hand in hand, to where the cutting began a long, slow turn that took it past the end of the St. Monica’s playing fields. It was familiar ground to Peter, from many a voyeuristic expedition. From the safety of the trees they were soon watching the hockey games— a sight which never failed to send the blood to his cock. The senior girls were on the nearest field, one team in bottle green singlets and white gym knickers, the other with the colors reversed, but each and every one of them with making a fine show of nubile curves beneath the clinging fabric.