Maid Service

by Peter Birch

  “Not my department, I’m afraid,” Gabriel chuckled. “Now how about a visit from this girl you sent to Clive? She sounds spectacular.”

  “Everything is in hand,” Peter assured him. “I’ll put you down for a visit from Sophie this evening, if you like. But Grove House Maids needs to grow slowly. Speaking of which, I need to check that my Uncle Charles was suitably impressed by the service. He had Sophie last night. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  He walked from the room they’d booked and downstairs, to where his Uncle Charles was ensconced in his favorite seat in the smoking room. The old soldier greeted him affably, shaking his hand and insisting on ordering double measures of the oldest Cognac Lorrimer’s could provide.

  “I take it things went well then?” Peter asked as he made himself comfortable in the sage green leather armchair opposite his uncle.

  “Couldn’t have been better,” Charles responded cheerfully. “Three of the sweetest little poppets you could ever imagine, and …”

  “Three?” Peter queried.

  “Yes, three,” his uncle answered. “There was Sophie—delightfully resilient, and the pretty redhead with the Irish accent …”

  “Rhiannon!?” Peter broke in. “The little cow!”

  “… and the sweet little blonde,” Charles finished.

  “Michelle?” Peter queried. “But she was with me.”

  “Surely you know who you sent?” Charles queried. “Young girl, slim, very polite, blonde hair down to her backside, loves to go naked, squeals when she’s spanked. What was her name now …”

  “That’s not Michelle,” Peter stated, puzzled.

  “… Clemmie, that’s it,” his uncle finished.

  “Clemmie,” Peter answered slowly. “As in Clementine Stewart … Oh God. Well, one thing’s for sure, the maid service is going to have to be pretty damn discreet. You’ve just spanked and played with a Member of the House’s daughter!”

  PART THREE

  ♦♦♦♦

  The Grove, Hertfordshire, 1997

  Chapter One

  Rhiannon and Clementine stood against the wall, hands on their heads, the smart green skirts of their maid’s uniforms tucked up, panties pulled down to show off bare, red bottoms. Both had been spanked, one after the other, across Peter’s knee and were now being made to do corner time while he tried to decide how best to cope with the situation they’d gotten him into, and for which they’d been recently punished.

  Unfortunately, just as the he knew there was no real punishment in spanking girls who enjoyed it, he also knew that there was no real choice but to accept the situation. It wasn’t all bad in any case, just one more complication to the already labyrinthine condition of Grove House Maids. In general he was doing very well. The idea worked perfectly. More than fifty girls had now been on the books, from those who’d been out only once to the best of his regulars, but not one had ever taken her story to the press or done anything else to compromise the position of the men they’d visited for spankings, for sex, and to satisfy all manner of curious peccadilloes. The tier system in particular worked well, ensuring that all of the girls had more to lose than they could possibly hope to gain, with only the most ambitious going to the men with the highest profiles.

  Sophie Fitzroy, technically the first Grove House girl of all, was now a barrister and seemed likely to climb higher still in the legal profession, while others were rising rapidly in their chosen spheres, including politics, diplomacy, the civil and military services, the professions and business. Rather more were wives of politicians, captains of industry, senior civil servants and more, in most cases having met their future husbands while doing maid service. Nevertheless, while recruiting took tact and skill, he’d always been able to keep enough girls on the books to bring in a decent income, allowing him to make Grove House Maids his full time job. The house was another matter, and would have been well beyond his means but for the generosity of his Uncle Charles, who had died a happy man and left everything to Peter, to the astonishment and fury of the rest of the family. The house lay deep in the Chilterns, and was the ideal place for parties and the private meetings so essential to the operation.

  Karen and Violet had moved on, and now occupied a smart Pimlico town house, the cellar of which had been converted into a superbly equipped dungeon in which they could entertain their clients, including those who Peter passed on. They in turn sent him men, and the occasional woman, whose pleasure lay in dominance rather than submission. Michelle was now his wife, although their relationship was far from orthodox, with Rhiannon sharing their bed as often as not and both taking their pleasure where and when they pleased. Rhiannon herself was now keeping the books as well as going out to clients, while Clementine had proved extraordinarily adept at recruiting new talent, principally from Oxford, where she was studying for a Master’s degree in biochemistry.

  The problem was in the very exclusivity that made the organization safe. Clementine’s knack lay in selecting girls she knew were safe, or who could be vouched for in turn. That meant they had to know each other well, and none knew each other better than those who’d been lovers at Broadfields, where the traditions of lesbian sex she and Rhiannon had enjoyed were still going strong. Hence the situation which had led to the two girls taking long and painful trips across Peter’s knee before being lined up against the wall with their smacked bottoms still bare as he lectured them.

  “She was Felicity’s toasty girl,” Clementine said plaintively after a while.

  “Yes,” Peter answered. “I know she was Felicity’s toasty girl, but she is also Ben Thompson’s daughter. What am I supposed to say to him if he finds out that I’m sending his precious little princess out for spankings and sex?”

  “Tell him not to be a hypocrite,” Rhiannon advised. “He has a girl a week!”

  “Besides,” Clementine put in, “Chloe’s old enough to make her own decisions and there’s no reason Ben should find out anyway. Dad’s never found out about me, has he?”

  “No, thank God,” Peter answered, “and I suppose you’re right. Okay, bring her in, but you can keep your uniforms up. That will help to see if she’s for real, with you two parading around bare bottomed.”

  “We’ll trip over our knickers,” Rhiannon pointed out.

  “And we’re supposed to be with Lord Justice Dolamore-Brown at three o’clock,” Clementine added. “We’ll be late if we don’t hurry up.”

  “Good,” Peter replied. “He can give you both another spanking. Now, off with your knickers, if you’re worried about falling over, and see her in.”

  The girls shared a look compounded of embarrassment and resignation, but did as they were told, stepping quickly out of their panties and keeping the skirts of their maid’s uniforms tucked up as Rhiannon sat down and Clementine left the room. She was soon back, with a pretty, brown-haired girl of middling height with beautiful, melting eyes and a trim figure—a combination marred somewhat by a slight resemblance to her father. Her face was distinctly pink.

  “I’m Chloe Thompson,” she told Peter.

  “I know,” he replied. “I take it you heard what was going on just now?”

  “You spanked them both,” she said, throwing a glance towards Rhiannon and Clementine, now both sitting bare bottomed on the sofa while their underwear lay on the table in front of Peter.

  “Yes, I did,” he went on, “and now I’m going to spank you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Felicity explained it all,” she said, now with her fingers entwining nervously as she began to fidget. “I need to be spanked to show that I’m genuine.”

  “Partly that,” Peter replied, “and partly because Grove House girls are expected to accept discipline from me as a matter of course. If that doesn’t suit you, I’ll drive you back to the station and nothing more need be said. Otherwise, come across my knee.”

  “Bare?” she
asked, her voice cracking slightly as she threw another shy glance towards the two girls.

  “Bare,” Peter confirmed. “Take your jeans down but you can leave your panties up.”

  “He prefers to take them down himself,” Rhiannon put in.

  “I’d have thought you’d have learned your lesson, Rhiannon, at least for today?” Peter responded. Rhiannon said nothing more as Peter moved forward to make a lap for Chloe as she fumbled the button of her jeans open. “But yes, Chloe, I’m going to take your underwear down, once I’ve warmed you up a little bit.”

  Chloe nodded, now shaking visibly and blushing a rich pink as she pushed her jeans down to reveal firm, well-shaped thighs and a pair of lacy white panties. Peter gave an encouraging smile and she moved forward, to lay herself somewhat clumsily across his lap, her bottom lifted high to show off a silky white lunette bulging with shapely flesh. He took her around the waist and settled his hand across her cheeks, pressing gently before applying the first smack. Chloe responded with a faint sigh and he set to work, peppering her cheeks with sharp slaps of his fingertips to get her warm before removing her flimsy undergarment.

  He’d been keeping count over the years and knew that she was the one-hundred and seventy-fifth girl to surrender her bottom to him for spanking, not including the few upon whom he’d used implements but never actually spanked. Each had been a pleasure in her own way, and each slightly different, but he’d learned to recognize and appreciate certain common traits. Chloe was clearly embarrassed and shy of her own needs, but with the strength to accept them and get what she wanted. That meant it was probably best to be firm with her, telling her what was going to happen and going through with it straight away rather than cajoling or teasing her into surrender, while she clearly wasn’t the sort to ask for what she needed.

  “Ok, off they come,” he announced once he judged her to be warm enough. “Stick it up.”

  Her hips immediately came up, allowing him to peel her panties down over her bottom and tug them free past his legs and down. A quick adjustment of her feet and her legs were open, her pretty pussy showing between her thighs and her lowered panties stretched taut between her knees as he began to spank once more. She obviously knew how exposed she was, and her gasps and sobs had grown a little more intense, but she made no complaint and kept her legs wide without having to be told.

  “An obedient one, I see,” he remarked to the others. “That’s useful. You’ll do well for the sterner gentlemen, Chloe, the sort who believe that girls need regular spankings and ought to be grateful for what they get. Now then, let’s get a good look at you.”

  He’d pulled her cheeks open as he spoke, and she gasped at the sudden, rude exposure but she made no effort to get up, instead lying still with her head hanging down as he inspected the tight pink pucker between her cheeks and the open mouth of her cunt.

  “Your excitement is most evident,” he told her.

  “I … I’ve been thinking about what was coming,” she said, “about how I was going to be spanked.”

  “Then I’d better not disappoint,” Peter answered and set to work once more.

  While he always spanked the new girls, he was more diffident about what followed. A very few had made it clear that was all they were willing to submit to and were simply made to do corner time while he masturbated to the sight of their bare red bottoms, or Michelle obliged by taking him in her mouth. Others got to sit on his lap with their panties still down while they tossed him off, or knelt to suck his cock. Some he fucked, and with the boldest or most pliable of all he would treat his cock to their bottoms. Chloe seemed intriguingly compliant, and she was certainly excited, with the juice from her pussy making a wet patch on his knee as her spanking continued. She was also shy, despite the situation she was in, but it was important for her to learn to accept his cock as part of the deal.

  “Up,” he told her once her bottom had flushed a rich pink all over. “Now, do you know how to say thank you when you’ve been spanked?”

  She’d risen from his lap, a little unsteady and clutching at her panties in embarrassment and confusion, but her eyes turned to him and she nodded.

  “Do … do I have to suck your penis?”

  “That will do,” he confirmed, “and you can leave your underwear down.”

  She made a face, but got into position, kneeling between his knees with her ass pushed out. Rhiannon and Clementine were cuddled up together, giggling, as they watched Peter draw down his zip. His cock sprang free and his balls bobbled out behind, as he took Chloe gently by the hair.

  “Kiss my balls,” he demanded. “Good girl, now put my cock in that pretty mouth. Yes … that’s right, move up and down … now purse your lips on the head and push down … Ohh, you are a good girl!”

  She’d followed each of his instructions, rather clumsily, with her face full of doubt and not a little consternation, but pleasingly obedient. He glanced at the clock as she continued to suck and reluctantly decided against coming in her face. It was always fun, and especially satisfying to soil a pretty girl’s face as she knelt red bottomed at his feet. But she would need to clean up, which meant inevitable delay. Something less messy was in order.

  “Make a cunt of your lips,” he told her. “That’s right, now stay still while I fuck your mouth.”

  He’d tightened his grip in her hair, holding her head in place as he pushed his now swollen cock in and out between her neatly pursed lips, tugging on his shaft at the same time. The expression on her face changed to resentment and alarm as she realized that he was going to masturbate into her mouth. But that only served to make him all the more excited, as did the delighted giggles from Rhiannon and Clementine as they saw what was being done to their friend.

  “That’s it, perfect …” he sighed as he felt his orgasm start to well up. “Oh you little darling, you sweet little bitch,” he praised, as he savored the release of his fluid. “Now swallow it, go on, all of it. That’s right, down your throat and I’ll send you back to college with a bellyful of cum.”

  She looked almost stuffed, with her cheeks bulging and her eyes popped wide with shock and disgust as he came in her mouth, jamming his cock in and out of her still pursed lips. As the head of his cock pressed into her throat she began to gag, just as he’d hoped, bringing his ecstasy to an exquisite peak before he finished with a long, satisfied groan. He let go and she rocked back on her heels, gasping for breath, her mouth wide to show off the mess of cum and spittle on her tongue and dribbling down over her lips.

  “Now do yourself,” Clementine said. “He likes his girls to have an orgasm when he’s finished abusing them.”

  Chloe gave no response, her eyes and mouth now shut and her face screwed up in revulsion, fighting to make herself swallow, and then, very deliberately, taking the full load of what Peter had done in her mouth down into her belly.

  “Good girl,” Peter told her, surprised but very pleased. “Now why don’t you take Clemmie’s advice? Don’t worry, we’ve all seen it before.”

  “Do I have to?” Chloe asked, her voice soft and sullen.

  “Do you want to?” Peter retorted. “That’s what matters.”

  Chloe hesitated, glancing towards the girls, her teeth now clamped against her lower lip. Then, she hung her head, shrouding her face with hair to hide her shame as one hand slowly descended to masturbate. Rhiannon giggled and Clementine gave a happy purr as they began to kiss and toy with each other. Peter wagged his finger at them and tapped his watch, but said nothing, allowing Chloe to concentrate on whatever was running through her head as she played with herself, perhaps the thought of what she had just done, or of Felicity, or pure shame.

  Whatever it was, she didn’t take long, her sobs and gasps quickly rising as her excitement overcame her embarrassment, until she suddenly threw her head back, crying out in wordless ecstasy that quickly broke to a babble as she thanked Peter over and over
again for her spanking. He was grinning as he watched, utterly pleased with her reaction, and with himself, but not speaking until she’d finally come down and opened her eyes to throw an embarrassed smile at her friends.

  “Welcome to Grove House Maids,” Peter addressed her. “I’m sure you’ll fit in perfectly. Right, stop it you two, save it for the judge.”

  The two girls reluctantly pulled apart and got up, Rhiannon to adjust her uniform in the mirror and Clementine to lead Chloe off to the bathroom.

  “Shall I put my panties on?” Rhiannon asked.

  “Yes,” Peter advised, “and with luck you’ll be a bit less pink by the time you get to Waddesdon. James likes his girls fresh.”

  “If you wanted us fresh you shouldn’t have spanked us,” she told him. “Is Chloe coming?”

  “No,” Peter told her. “Not without a uniform, you know that. I’ll drop her back to Oxford on my way to Gabriel’s and pick up Michelle at the same time. Right, let’s go.”

  It took another ten minutes before he could get the girls into his car, a dark green Jaguar he’d treated himself to with his uncle’s unexpected endowment. Both Rhiannon and Clementine were now in full Grove House Maids uniforms, demure but well cut dresses in a distinctive mid-green and set off with white aprons and lace at the collar to give a formal, deliberately outdated look and yet still show off their figures. The frilly white panties, half-cup bras and suspender belts they wore underneath were anything but demure, but then they didn’t show, while it was impossible to tell that they were wearing stockings rather than tights and their heels were sufficiently sensible not to draw comment.

  The Grove was at the end of a long, unpaved track that led down into the valley below Ivinghoe Beacon, a spot at once secluded and beautiful, while convenient for both London and Oxford. Sightseers posed a minor problem, particularly in the bluebell season, but he’d taken care to make the trees and shrubs that surrounded the house a very effective barrier. On this occasion, someone had parked their car so that it half blocked the end of the lane, forcing him to let Rhiannon out to make sure there were no oncoming vehicles. So he was muttering curses under his breath as he pulled out and turned north towards Waddesdon, where Lord Justice James Dolamore-Brown lived in genteel and solitary elegance, although rather less genteel than his neighbors might have imagined.