Maid To Order

by Penny Birch

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

Penny's niece, Jemima, is in disgrace and has been sent away to work in a hotel for the summer by her scheming step-mother - a woman who delights in dishing out bare bottom spankings. This is no coincidence. Not only is the hotel owner the notorious Morris Rathwell, organiser of the kinkiest parties in the country, but Jemima also met the hotel manager, Mr Hegedus, at one of Rathwell's debauched parties.

Then there are the hotel guests, her fellow staff and the truly appalling Mrs Hegedus to contend with. So that by the time Jemima is dressed up in her severely abbreviated maid's uniform, she knows she's already in serious trouble. Maids, secret worlds behind closed doors, and good old fashioned punishment for bad girls - Penny Birch hits the spot again with the preoccupations her readers love.

Release date: June 1, 2010

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 206

Sample

Prologue

‘PANTIES DOWN, PENNY.’

Aunt Elaine knew she had to tell me, not because there was the slightest chance of me being allowed to keep them up, but because it was an important part of my spanking to be told they had to come down. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to concentrate fully on my feelings of exposure and shame as she peeled my big, white cotton knickers slowly down over my rear cheeks to leave me bare-bottomed over her lap: bare-bottomed, the way a girl about to be spanked should be. She took them right down, far enough to ensure that the rear view of my pussy would be showing from behind, then raised her knee to make my cheeks spread and add the pinkish brown pucker of my bottom hole to my thoroughly rude rear display.

‘Look in the mirror, Penny. You should see how you look from behind.’

‘Yes, Auntie.’

She’d put the mirror there on purpose, so that I could see my rear view reflected in the much bigger one on the front of her wardrobe. My bottom seemed to fill the glass; a full, pale moon between my upturned skirt and the tangle of my lowered panties; my plump, furry pussy lips pouting from between my thighs; my anus puckered and brown in a nest of hair pulsing gently. I could see my face too: my hair dishevelled, my mouth a little open, my eyes big with a reaction to what was about to be done to me. Still being in my work clothes only made it worse; the way my smart jacket and trim skirt had been turned up to get me bare added to my disgrace; while my open blouse and dangling boobs added a touch of the absurd. I was no longer a respectable university reader, but merely a naughty girl stripped to put her in her place and about to be given a well-deserved spanking by her aunt.

I started to sob, no longer able to hold my feelings in as her hand had settled on my bottom, giving my cheeks a little rub before applying the first smack. With that I gave in completely to my emotions, the tears streaming down my face even before my spanking had properly begun and continuing to come in a choking torrent as my bottom bounced and quivered under the slaps of her hand. Fully aware that I needed what she was giving me and how I would react to it, Aunt Elaine took no notice of my response. It had become a ritual; over her knee like this once every week, with the occasional reinforcement spanking or spontaneous punishment when she felt I needed to be dealt with, or more often, when I did.

It hurt, quite a lot, but all my stresses and cares were melting away with the pain. I need to be spanked, regularly, and by somebody who understands what it does to me. Aunt Elaine is close to perfect for the job: naturally strict and with an authority that goes back all the way to when she first did it to me, with me in my pretty pink bridesmaid’s dress and my frillies pulled down at her daughter’s wedding; my first proper spanking and one of the most important moments of my life. Twenty-two years later and I was in the same humiliating position, having my bottom smacked with no more consideration for my dignity than when I’d been a teenager. And I was in ecstasy.

She knew I was ready, but she didn’t stop. It had taken her longer to accept that she enjoyed spanking me than it had for me to accept that I enjoyed being spanked. The first time it had been genuine discipline, then something that needed to be done for my sake, and finally a mutual pleasure. I let her spank away, while trying to resist the need to touch myself as she enjoyed my bottom, but breaking well before she was satisfied.

My hand went back as I cocked my legs apart, stretching my panties taught between my thighs. She slapped my fingers as they found my sex but she didn’t stop me, returning her attention to my now heated bottom as I began to masturbate. It felt so natural, so easy, yet still deliciously dirty with my bottom spread to her hand as I played with myself in full view of her, and with my eyes locked to the unspeakably rude reflection of my rear view in the mirror.

The moon of my bottom was no longer pale but a rich red, with my cheeks bouncing to the slaps as she spanked me and my bumhole winking lewdly as my muscles began to contract. I cried out as it hit me: the whole awful, perfect situation coming together in a long moment of pure bliss, while the spanking continued until I finally went limp across her knees. A long sigh escaped my lips as I came down from my orgasm, and as soon as I could get control of my legs I was wriggling into position between her knees, ready to say thank you with a willing tongue. To my surprise she shook her head.

‘Not this time, thank you, dear.’

‘Oh …’

‘It’s not you, Penny, but I’m afraid I have some rather bad news. Kate has left Jeremy.’

‘I … I’m sorry.’

It was all I could manage, and as much a question as anything else. I could hardly take it in, and barely remembered to pull my knickers back up as she started to talk.

‘I wanted to look after your bottom before I told you. He was having an affair, apparently, with his secretary. She put up with it for months after she found out, but she met a man she likes, in Florence. With Pippa at university and Jemima out of school, she’s decided to stay in Europe, at least for the time being.’

‘That’s awful!’

‘Yes, and he’s moved the secretary in. She’s called Danielle. And she has a daughter called Summer, so Jemima tells me.’

‘So Jemima’s living with Jeremy and this Danielle?’

Chapter One

‘YOU ARE NOT MY mother!’

‘I will be.’

‘No you won’t, not ever, not my real mother.’

‘Maybe not, Jemima, but I will be your stepmother, and as long as you’re in this house you’ll do as you’re told.’

‘Not by you I won’t, you bitch!’

‘What did you call me?’

‘A bitch, which is what you are, Danielle, a vicious, gold-digging bitch!’

She came forward, so suddenly and with such a nasty expression on her face that I thought she was going to hit me. My hands came up by instinct. Instead of slapping my face she caught hold of my jacket and jerked it sharply down my back.

‘What … what are you doing, you mad cow!’

Her hand was twisted hard into the material of my jacket, trapping my arms behind my back and holding me firmly in place. Then she answered me.

‘Something your real mother should have done years ago, you little brat.’

I knew what she meant and started to fight, but I couldn’t move my arms properly and I was starting to panic, because the thought of her spanking me was unbearable.

‘No! You bitch, you do not spank me! You do not! You do not!’

‘Oh yes I do.’

The first smack landed on my bum and it had been done; my bottom smacked by the evil bitch who’d broken up my parents’ marriage. I went wild, screaming and kicking and calling her every name I could think of, but my struggles only seemed to amuse her. She wasn’t even doing it hard, and it didn’t hurt at all, but that wasn’t important and we both knew it. What was important was that I was having my bottom smacked, by her, and I could hear the tears in my own voice as I wriggled in her grip.

‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, you bitch!’

She just laughed and kept at it, smacking the seat of my jeans. Her hand was cupped, to make the smacks louder and to hold my cheeks, making me wonder if she wasn’t only exerting her authority but also getting a kick out of feeling my bum.

‘Get off me, bitch!’

‘I don’t think so, Jemima. You’ve had this coming a long time, and anyway, I’m definitely not going to stop until you learn to address me respectfully.’

‘Let me up! What if Summer came in?’

‘What about it? She’d see you getting a spanking. Why shouldn’t you be spanked in front of your sister?’

‘She’s not my sister! And … and, you couldn’t, Danielle, not in front of her …’

She was still spanking me, harder now, but it wasn’t the stinging slaps that were bringing me to the edge of panic; it was the thought of her daughter coming in from the garden and seeing me get it.

‘Fuck off!’ I screamed.

She just laughed, tightened her grip and carried on with my spanking; taking one cheek at a time, still with her hand cupped, but slowly, so that every smack rang out loud and clear. There was no anger in it any more, but there was something else.

‘You’re playing with my bum, you dirty bitch!’

Again she laughed, and when the next smack landed she didn’t take her hand away, but began to caress my bottom.

‘Fuck … off, Danielle!’

I kicked out as I spoke, catching her shin. Her breath came out in a sharp hiss as I made contact, but she only grew more determined, holding me by my coat and under my bum as she forced me towards the back of an armchair.

‘Right, enough games, you little cat! Over you go.’

‘No!’

It was too late, my body pushed down over the back of the chair to leave me completely helpless, with my bum stuck high and my legs kicking furiously as my spanking began once more. Now it was hard, and fast, delivered full across my cheeks with real fury and I could do nothing about it at all. My feet were off the ground, my legs kicking wildly in the air, my face in the cushions and my fists beating pathetically at the arms of the chair. I was making my bottom wiggle too, and as she continued to slap at the seat of my jeans she had begun to laugh again.

‘You do look funny, Jemima.’

‘Fuck off, you stupid old bag!’

Her grip grew tighter and the smacks slowed to a hard, even rhythm as she went on.

‘Oh, and that’s another thing. I am not old. I am thirty-six. I am, however, in charge and you will do as you’re told, or next time I’ll do it properly, with your pants pulled down. In fact, maybe I should pull them down right now.’

The spanking stopped, but she kept her grip. I began to panic again, unable to bear the thought of being done on the bare, and struggled frantically as her hands circled my waist, her fingers going to the button of my jeans.

‘No, you can’t! Not that, Danielle! Not bare! What about Summer!?’

‘What about her? Do you think I care if she sees your bare bum?’

‘No, Danielle, please! Please!’

I was begging, desperate not to be stripped. She’d got my button undone and it was all going to come down to display my bare bottom. And she’d spank me like that, maybe with Summer watching, and they’d see, they’d see I was wet. I screamed out and lurched as hard as I could, but she clung on, pressing my body down over the back of the sofa as she fought to get my jeans undone.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ she hissed, and I’d began to sob in helpless frustration, still kicking my legs as my zip was quickly pulled down.

‘Well, what’s it to be?’ she demanded. ‘A bit of respect when you talk to me or a bare bottom in your own living room? Maybe I’ll even call Summer in to watch as you seem to find the idea so humiliating?’

My answer was a choking noise and she’d begun to tug my jeans down.

‘Well?’

‘Fuck you, Danielle!’

Again she tugged, exposing the top of my panties. She laughed.

‘Knickers with little yellow ducks? I thought you said you were grown up, Jemima?’

I gave in, too humiliated to fight any more.

‘OK! OK! Anything to get you out of my hair! I promise not to call you a bitch.’

‘That’s better, but I still think you need to be punished, don’t you?’

‘No! That’s not fair, Danielle, you said …’

She hadn’t let go, or stopped pulling at my jeans, which had come right down, leaving the seat of my panties on show to her. Again she began to spank, and to alternate the smacks with little pinches to the flesh where my cheeks were sticking out of my knickers.

‘What do you call me?’ she asked.

‘Danielle,’ I managed.

‘Better, but not really appropriate, not when I’m going to be your stepmother, and I do think an apology might be in order.’

The spanking had stopped, but her hand had closed on the seat of my knickers, pulling them together to spill my cheeks out at the sides and leave a little of my slit showing. One good tug and they’d be down, to leave me bare bottom with my pussy showing, my wet pussy. I broke.

‘OK, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I won’t call you a bitch again, I promise! Just let me up, please!’

She kept her grip.

‘I don’t think so, Jemima, not yet. No, I don’t think you should call me Danielle. Let me see, what would be best? Yes, why not? You can call me Mummy.’

‘No!’

‘Well if you’re going to be stubborn …’

‘No, please, I’m begging you … not my panties, Danielle, please!’

She’d pulled my knickers halfway down my bottom. A moment more and I was going to be showing, and I was sure she could smell me anyway, but that didn’t stop me fighting even more furiously than before. I felt cool air on my bumhole and screamed a final, choking plea, but she’d already stopped, not from any sense of decency, but at the sound of tyres crunching gravel outside. For a moment we both stayed frozen; me with one leg in the air and my bottom almost completely out of my panties, then she’d let go, laughing.

‘I suppose it would be inappropriate to spank you in front of your father, especially bare bottom. Why, he might realise what a slut his sweet little daughter is, getting all wet when her stepmother spanks her.’

I was choking with shame as I struggled to get my knickers up before Dad came in. Her words made it worse by far, but that didn’t stop me catching the worried tone in her voice, or seeing the expression on her face. She even adjusted the cushions while I buttoned myself up, and by the time the door finally swung open she was all sweetness and light. I waited until the perfect moment, as Dad turned to pull his keys from the lock, then mouthed a single word to Danielle.

‘Bitch.’

If looks could kill I’d have been toast – hot, buttered and with extra marmalade – but it was too late for her to retaliate and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t dare say anything too bad in front of him. She didn’t, but kissed him and went to make him a coffee, now the perfect little girlfriend. I gave him a hug and ran up to my room, close to tears as I brooded over what she’d done to me. She really was an utter bitch, but there was nothing I could do about it when she knew so much about me. And she’d only had to say two words when she first turned up with Dad to make very sure I couldn’t call her on her nasty habits – Morris Rathwell.

That could only mean she knew about his spanking parties, which I’d been attending once a month in order to earn myself some decent pocket money over the last couple of terms. It had meant pretending to be where I wasn’t, while in reality I was having my bottom smacked by a group of dirty old men. Very generous dirty old men. How Danielle knew I had no idea, but she did and if Dad found out I’d really be in trouble. So would she too, because even knowing about something so dirty was going to ruin the whiter-than-white image she tried so hard to keep up for him. So while she could be pretty horrid to me she could only push so far, and she knew it.

She understood about spanking as well, and all the little humiliations that make it worse, especially when it comes to pulling down knickers. That, and knowing about Morris, had to mean she’d had it done, which was at least some consolation as I inspected my cheeks in the bathroom mirror. She given me plenty and I was quite red, but I’d taken a lot worse, and on the bare. Anyway, I like to be spanked, but not by her, and just the thought of what she’d done brought tears to my eyes. I gave myself a rub and tried to pretend I wasn’t reacting the way I would have done if I’d been over a man’s knee voluntarily.

It just wasn’t possible. The sight of my red cheeks sticking out between my top and my pushed down panties was too much on its own, without the heat of my skin and feel of my flesh in my hands. I tried to concentrate on the power getting it from men gives me and how I’d felt as I stood to have my smacked bottom inspected at Morris’s last party. His wife Melody had dealt with me, a tall, powerfully built black girl who’d stroked my hair to help me get over my shyness, and then held me firmly in place across her knee as she turned my school skirt up and took down my panties.

I could remember the men commenting on my figure, their voices amused or hoarse with lust. Coltish, one man had called my legs, as if I was a young horse being paraded at a show. Another had replied that he’d never seen such a pert bottom on such long legs, then asked Melody to pull my knickers down a bit more so that he could see my cunt properly. That single, crude word had been like an electric shock. Melody had obliged, adjusting my panties and then cocking her knee up to make my cheeks spread so they all got a good look at my bumhole too.

She’d spanked me so hard, with my arm twisted up into the small of my back just in case I tried to escape. I’d screamed and squirmed and kicked my legs up and down so hard my shoes had come off, but it had mostly been for show. With Danielle it had been real, but she’d had me, just as securely, holding me in place while she smacked me on the seat of my jeans, and on my panties. As I shut my eyes and stuck my hand between my legs I was thinking of how she’d threatened to strip me properly and what she’d have seen. She’d known anyway, because she’d smelt me, and I was absolutely soaking. It had felt awful having my jeans taken down, worse than when it had been my panties with a dozen leering old gits getting off over my bare rear view. But I wished she’d done it properly, spanked me on my panties and then pulled them down too, taunting me as my bottom came bare, telling me what she could see, telling me how wet I was, calling Summer in to watch …

‘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 . . .