Maid Service

by Peter Birch

  When Master Jacobaeus pulled the nozzle free of her anus Peter was sure the full contents of her rectum would explode back out instantaneously, but she seemed determined to hold off from the final disgrace as long as possible, wriggling her toes and squeezing her bottom cheeks as she gasped out every sensation. The effort was obviously futile and served only to amuse her audience and prolong her ordeal, but still she clung on. Her butthole begun to bulge outward, the flesh pink and glistening, a thin trickle of white fluid escaping from the central hole as she struggled to hold it in. It hadn’t been water. It was milk. Somebody noticed and laughed, at which Master Jacobaeus reached out to give Lily a single, resounding smack across her bottom.

  She let go, crying out in despair and humiliation as the milk exploded from her body in a high arc to splash down behind her. A second squirt followed, and a third, each accompanied by a cry from Lily, not of pain, but pure emotional anguish for what had been done to her and her utter helplessness to stop the milk now pulsing from the wet pink flower of her asshole. Master Jacobaeus merely watched, his arms folded across his chest, his face expressionless as Lily let out the rest of her enema, abandoned now to her shame as the milky fluid trickled down over her cunt to puddle on the floor. Only when the flow had reduced to soft, wet bubbles and Lily’s head hung in defeat did Master Jacobaeus reach out, using one gloved hand to stimulate her sopping cunt, bringing her quickly to an orgasm every bit as intense as Red’s.

  The moment she was done the crowd began to clap and cheer, with the exception of a few who stood in the wrong place and been splashed when she let go. But not even they complained. Peter found himself clapping politely, amused and not a little aroused, to the point of wishing that he knew Lily better, as no sooner had she been released then she went down on her knees to her boyfriend, to take his cock in her mouth and suck with frantic urgency. Master Jacobaeus watched with a paternal eye for a while before announcing a demonstration of mummification, a fetish which had never appealed to Peter on the grounds that it seemed counterproductive to conceal a girl’s body from view.

  He went back upstairs, to find the wrestling in full swing. Michelle was pinned to the mat, panties off, thighs held wide and a fat pink dildo pushed deep into her cunt. The victorious Karen straddled her, rubber-clad bottom pressed full into the defeated girl’s face. Blue was acting as referee but seemed in no hurry to bring the bout to an end, waiting as Karen retrieved Michelle’s knickers and tossed them into the audience, ensuring that she’d have to go bare under her school skirt for the rest of the evening.

  “An easy victory for Miss Lash!” Blue declared. “And so to our third bout of the evening, Slave Red versus …”

  The music had died down for an instant but swelled once more, drowning her voice even as Red stepped into the ring. She was naked, her skin glistening with sweat and spotted with wax, full of nervous energy but clearly in no condition to put up a decent fight. Another girl joined her, Sophie, shrugging off her coat as she stepped over the ropes to reveal skin-tight shorts of blue velvet. Her hair was tied up with a ribbon of the same material, and other than that she was completely nude, with her full, beautiful breasts proudly displayed for all to see.

  She looked as if she wanted to lose, as Peter would have expected, but there was really no contest. Red was too small and not nearly strong enough, even without the haze of submission from her waxing. She was pinned in moments, face down on the floor to have her bottom smacked before being rolled over and given a faceful of well filled velvet shorts, with Sophie squirming down onto Red’s face to the beat of the music before rising to her feet, victorious.

  The next bout was less one-sided, with Violet ending up sweaty and disheveled before she managed to get the better of a tall black girl Peter didn’t recognize. Violet’s skin was scratched and her blouse ripped open to leave one breast bare, while her opponent had kept on struggling even after having her lower clothes pulled right off and her cunt splayed to the delighted audience. A pause followed, which allowed Peter to find Michelle among the now dense crowd. He approached her from behind, sliding a hand up her pleated skirt to squeeze one fleshy little cheek. She turned and kissed him, then pointed to where Tia was dancing naked for a man seated in one of the pews—Ben Thompson.

  Peter hurried over, dragging Michelle behind him, to be greeted with a wiggle of Tia’s bottom and a shy grin from Ben. After placing a perfunctory slap across one bare brown globe, he sat down by his friend, shouting into his ear to warn him of the impending police raid, but Ben merely smiled and leant close to reply.

  “Not tonight. Lennox wanted to swamp the place, but his request for resources was denied. I was looking for you to tell you.”

  “Thanks!” Peter answered, but he cursed under his breath as he turned away. The dramatic manifesto he and Master Jacobaeus had been concocting would be ineffectual without a police raid. Still, that would not stop him from indulging himself.

  Tia was plainly intent on getting both their attention, leaning forward with her heavy breasts in her hands. Peter shrugged off his secondary concerns and sat back to enjoy the show, wondering just how close Ben and Tia had become, and whether she’d let him fuck her glorious cleavage the way he had with Red. She certainly seemed eager to please, displaying her glorious curves with uninhibited delight.

  Michelle was equally keen, lifting her skirt to wiggle her bare bottom against his leg as she sat down on his lap before reaching out to take a handful of Tia’s rump. Tia responded by pulling Michelle up again and the two girls began to dance together, their hands moving over each other’s bodies to a slow, sensuous rhythm that had nothing to do with the pulsing music. Ben was watching pop-eyed and even Peter was giving the girls his full attention as their caresses grew more intimate, while others had begun to turn and stare.

  A roar went up from beyond the crowd, audible even above the music, making Peter wonder what was going on in the wrestling ring. But Michelle was now suckling on one long, dark nipple as Tia pretended to breastfeed her, a spectacle he had no intention of missing. His cock was stiffening nicely too, and he glanced towards Ben, wondering if his friend had the nerve to join him in fucking the girls right there with so many people looking on. Ben glanced back, happy but embarrassed and Peter set his plans aside, contenting himself with a surreptitious squeeze of his cock through his trousers as Michelle was pushed down to lick at Tia’s cunt.

  Another roar went up from the wrestling ring, but Peter’s interest was fixed as he watched his girlfriend taken firmly by the hair and pulled between her friend’s thighs. Michelle licked eagerly, her eyes closed in bliss as she suckled, only for Tia to suddenly swing round, pushing out her full, dark bottom. For an instant Michelle hesitated, looking up at her gloating friend with a mixture of accusation and lust, before burying her face between Tia’s cheeks. She’d begun to lick, Michelle’s pretty, pale face smothered in an abundance of brown flesh, her tongue probing her friend’s secretive anus as thirty or forty people looked on.

  For Peter it was too much. Freeing his cock, he got down behind Michelle to flip her skirt up over her naked backside, apply a few firm smacks to each well-rounded cheek and drive his erection between, filling her cunt to its depth. She held her position, her face still buried between Tia’s cheeks as she was fucked, Peter’s cock pumping inside her as she licked her friend’s long, deep crevice. Peter circled her waist, rubbing at her cunt as he fucked her, intent on bringing her off while her tongue explored Tia’s bottom. Somebody began to clap, then another, matching the rhythm of Peter’s thrusts as shudders passed through Michelle’s body, faster, and faster still, until she gave a muffled cry. She was so close to orgasm and ready to pull her face free, but Tia wasn’t quite finished with her. Caramel colored fingers twisted into Michelle’s fine blonde hair to keep her firmly smothered in plump rump as she was brought to orgasm under Peter’s fingers. Michelle pounded her palms on the floor, her orgasm shuddering through her, and all t
he while desperate to take another breath.

  Peter kept up his pace until Michelle had wrung out the last of her orgasm, and still Tia would not release her suffocating grip. Holding off with some difficulty, Peter finally pulled his cock free, jerking himself to climax over Michelle’s upturned ass, splashing her cheeks and slit with thick white cum, soiling her skirt and blouse, before whirling her round to sink his still-hard cock deep into her throat. Finally free from the suffocating mounds of mighty flesh, Michelle had time for one desperate gasp of oxygen before her airway was once again halted, this time by Peter’s cock. Tia turned and knelt at the same instant, her mouth gaping expectantly. Peter was more than happy to share, feeding her the final pearls of his semen and Michelle’s juice before collapsing back to watch as the girls shared a long, sticky kiss with his semen glistening around their mouths as their lips and tongues combined.

  While he’d been fucking Michelle, Peter had been vaguely aware of ever wilder and more enthusiastic calls from the direction of the wrestling ring, and as soon as he’d gotten his breath back he climbed onto a pew to see what was happening. Violet was there, her skirt turned up and her panties rolled down around her knees, looking distinctly sorry for herself as she rubbed at one little red ass cheek. She’d obviously been spanked, presumably by Sophie who was now in the ring facing up to Karen.

  Both girls were streaked with sweat, their hair in disarray, their eyes wild, oblivious to everything but each other. Their fight had obviously gone far beyond the usual half-playful tussle in which it was obvious who would allow themselves to be beaten. Here, neither was going to back down, nor submit unless she was forced to. That much was obvious, but as they closed, grappled and went down together on the mat it immediately struck Peter that, for all Karen’s natural dominance and effortless poise, she was getting a lot more than she’d bargained for. Sophie wasn’t giving in, and her size and strength had begun to tell. Karen looked frightened, and there was a sense of desperation as she struggled to break a hold, but she obviously wasn’t going to back down.

  They closed again, struggling together on the mat, first Karen on top, then Sophie. For a moment they were in deadlock, only for Karen to snatch at Sophie’s shorts, tugging them down to bare her backside, perhaps intending to embarrass her and get a telling grip while Sophie tried to cover herself up. The move failed, Sophie seemingly indifferent to having herself on show to the cheering crowd as she took hold of Karen’s wrist with both hands and twisted hard. Karen went over, her face set in pain and fury as she was forced onto her front with one arm twisted high into the small of her back. Sophie climbed on, straddling Karen’s body and pressing down hard. Karen kicked, scratched and thumped at the canvas in a furious effort to break free, all the while spitting swearwords inaudible above the music. But Sophie merely tightened her grip, freed one hand and began to pull down the zip at the back of the catsuit while Karen struggled in vain.

  Karen realized what was about to happen to her and she seemed to go berserk, thrashing in Sophie’s grip, her face working between fury and worry as she was gradually exposed. The curve of her back was showing, then the first swell of her bottom. But still she fought, refusing to use the stop word that would have forced Sophie to release her—the same stop word that would also have been an admission of defeat. Still the zip slid lower, around the curve of her buttocks and down between her legs, to show off her full, nude, intimate glory, at which she gave one last, furious jerk, screamed and went limp. Sophie seized on the moment, divesting Karen’s temporarily motionless body of her precious catsuit to leave her just as naked as Sophie. With exaggerated indifference, Sophie tossed the catsuit to the side of the ring where it lay crumpled on the floor. It, like Karen herself, having lost all of the sleek elegance it once had. In a final act of defiance, Sophie grabbed two handfuls of Karen’s hair and, with a yelp that was more like a battle cry, pulled as hard as she could like some victorious playground bully. Karen let out a wail of infuriated pain and, with that, Sophie began to spank.

  Peter couldn’t help but grin as he watched Karen’s trim little bottom jiggle and bounce to the slaps—treatment she’d dished out so many times and to so many girls but never, ever received herself. She’d obviously given in too, her face set in sullen resignation as she was given her virgin spanking, all the fight in her gone from the moment her cunt had been displayed. But, while Karen had accepted her fate, others were reacting differently. All around the ring were men she’d dominated before. Each and every one was staring in horror and disbelief to see his Goddess brought low, not merely spanked, but accepting a spanking and a bare bottom beating at that.

  Their expressions were so comic that Peter was laughing as he jumped down from the pew, intent on comforting Karen before taking some of the swagger out of Sophie by turning her over his knee in front of the crowd who’d just witnessed her victory. But all at once, before he could get to the ringside, the lights went out. The blackness was sudden and absolute, while the music had cut off equally abruptly, to be replaced by angry or puzzled voices and a single scream as new light flooded the church, blood red and flickering.

  Peter turned to see that the tall windows beyond the altar were now lit by what looked like flames from outside. A tall figure was silhouetted black against the light and made monstrous by the great antlers projecting from his head. Master Jacobaeus was standing on the altar, and as the crowd turned to gape he had raised his arms, spreading out his cloak as spotlights came on to splash his naked body with yellow light. Gold and scarlet symbols marked the inside of his cloak, while his monstrous cock stood fully erect from his belly, painted vivid scarlet. In place of the human face Peter had expected to see was the head of a stag, dead eyed and horrid, with the teeth bared in a rictus grin.

  More lights came on, white and clear, making a patch on the aisle where a girl stood alone, young and fresh and beautiful, a circlet of oak leaves crowning her blonde hair, her lithe, delicate body pale and naked. Music started once more, a wild, pagan rhythm of drums and flutes, but quiet, allowing the figure on the altar to be heard clearly as he began to chant. The naked girl started forward, her eyes fixed upon the monstrous cock that would shortly be thrust inside her virgin womanhood.

  “He’s good, I’ll give him that,” Peter whispered as Michelle cuddled to his side, both of them watching entranced as Master Jacobaeus beckoned the virgin to climb onto the altar.

  She climbed the steps and pulled herself up, kneeling in a genuflection of worship, her face level with his monstrous erection. He cried out, inviting the audience to witness as she was deflowered, his arms still raised as she planted a single, delicate kiss on his massive balls. Again the lights changed, a single bright spotlight illuminating the scene as the girl turned, pressing her breasts to the cold, hard stone of the altar, her face looking out to the crowd as she arched her back and offered her sex to Master Jacobaeus. He took her hips, squatting down to press his cock between her thighs, moved a hand to guide himself to the mouth of her virginity, and gave one gentle push. She’d obviously been prepared for the ritual with a soothing lubricant, but still she screamed as she was penetrated, her mouth wide in pain and shock. But as he began to pump inside her, the look changed, first to acquiescence, then to contentment and then to ecstasy.

  “Bravo!” Peter said quietly, and as the girl’s fucking began in earnest he’d begun to clap along with the rest of the crowd, only to break off at a scream of outrage.

  A man burst from the crowd, hurling himself at Master Jacobaeus to send him tumbling backwards from the altar, his cock slurping from the girl’s cunt. She screamed and rolled to the side, vanishing among the crowd as the two men rose from behind the altar, trading punches and screaming at each other, Master Jacobaeus grotesque in his cloak and stag’s head, the other in rough leathers but instantly recognizable—Inspector Lennox.

  “God, or maybe Satan, please let somebody have a camera!” Peter whispered, an instant before the exp
losion of a flash bulb answered his prayer.

  ♦♦♦♦

  “He’s been transferred to traffic. Responsible for co-ordinating wardens in one of the outer boroughs,” Clive remarked, “I forget which. There’ll be a full investigation too, and he’ll be recommended for psychiatric assessment.”

  “Thank you,” Peter answered, and reached out to clink his brandy glass against his friend’s.

  They’d assembled at Lorrimer’s, to celebrate Peter’s election to membership and, incidentally, the downfall of Inspector Lennox.

  “Not at all,” Clive responded. “I only did what would have been expected of me anyway. And you didn’t really need to bribe me, although of course young Sophie was greatly appreciated.”

  “Think of her as a thank you gift, in advance,” Peter told him. “And of course, she only came round to clean, so it wasn’t much at all. Not only that, but the best I expected was for you to be able to reprimand Lennox for wasting resources. I knew Master Jacobaeus would annoy him, but had no idea he’d go berserk.”

  Clive laughed and took a swallow of brandy before he went on.

  “I only wish I could have been there to watch.”

  “It was quite a sight,” Ben assured him, “and given the way Lennox was raving about sacrilege and desecration I’d say the psychiatric assessment is fully justified. Not that Master Jacobaeus is much better, but then he’s not in public service.”

  “He should be,” Peter remarked. “It would liven things up no end. Perhaps you can appoint him to a church commission or something, Gabriel?”