Maid Service (19 page)

For a moment the scene continued as before, until Master Jacobaeus suddenly began to thrust hard into Michelle. She cried out, throwing her head back and locking her arms around his neck as she bounced on his monstrous cock. Cum exploded from her straining hole, splashing Blue's face and running down over his balls as Michelle began a desperate squirming motion on his cock, rubbing herself on him without thought for anything but her own pleasure until she too joined them in orgasm.

“Not bad,” Peter said. “Not bad at all. What do you think?”

“A bit over the top, maybe,” Michelle replied, looking at the flyer he'd given her.

“Over the top is good,” Peter stated. “Over the top is what we need.”

The flyer advertised Club S, but in place of the usual images of leather clad dominas or pretty girls in disheveled uniforms, there appeared to be a scene from hell. It focused on a giant pentagram with a naked girl strapped to it, and she was being whipped to ecstasy by capering devils with improbably large cocks. In the background was a burning cross rising amid the ruins of a cathedral, and various figures having sex. Above it all, looking down as if in approval of his creation, was the face of Master Jacobaeus, complete with horns and lit orange and demonic as if by the flames below.

“Admittedly, we might lose a few of our regulars,” Peter went on. “But then we might equally well pick up some of the more Gothic crowd, the more militant sort of pagans, a few Satanists perhaps.”

“You're hoping we get raided, aren't you?” Michelle asked.

“Yes, and so is Jake,” Peter admitted. “But that's only part of my little scheme. Right, I need to get to work. I have a lot to do, and I suppose I really ought to try and make some money.”

He left the flat to start on what had become routine over the years, using his cab to visit the places he needed to go for the club and parties, while earning money at the same time. Having to take fares to the destination of their choosing was always a bit of a problem, but he'd long ago managed to work out routes between the stations, the major hotels and other popular spots in such a way that he could generally get everything done that was needed.

Distributing the flyers was his first priority, with several calls in Soho and the more Bohemian parts of Camden and Westminster, before a lucky call to drive to Moorgate allowed him to cover the City. By mid-afternoon the job was done and he turned his light off in order to make his way to the long, gray student dormitories where Sophie had her room. He noted the name on the door “Sophie Fitzroy” before knocking. She was in, and he was soon sipping coffee in the single armchair provided by the college while she sat cross-legged on the bed. Peter talked of this and that for a while before coming to the point.

“I have a one-to-one proposal for you, if you'd like to take it up?”

“Maybe,” she replied cautiously. “What happens?”

“It's simple. You visit a gentleman of my acquaintance, somebody I know and trust. He spanks you, along with anything else that seems appropriate at the time, and I give you two hundred pounds.”

“What's he like?”

“Small, dapper, very civilized, my age. He was at school with me, as it happens.”

“He sounds like just the man to spank me. But, I mean … I've never done one-to-ones.”

“There's absolutely nothing to worry about. I'll drive you over and pick you up if you like? His flat's just off the Horseferry Road, in Westminster.”

“That would be kind, thanks. When did you have in mind?”

“No time like the present, really. He's a civil servant, so we can probably predict his movements fairly accurately.”

“Is he expecting me
now
?” she asked, surprised.

“You're a present, in return for a favor.”

Sophie had begun to smile.

“I rather like that idea,” she said after a pause. “Being given away as a present to a man who likes to spank. That way …”

“It's like it isn't your choice,” he answered for her. “There's nothing like letting go of your responsibility when it comes to sex, especially kinky sex. Still, perhaps you'd like a warm up?” Peter smiled and patted his lap.

“In a moment,” Sophie agreed, before getting up and going to her wardrobe. “What would he like me to wear, do you think?”

“Violet says you have a school uniform?” Peter answered. “That would be sure to appeal to him, especially if it includes a red tartan skirt. The girls at our neighboring convent used to wear red tartan and it left a lasting impression on me, so probably on Clive too. And that reminds me. When you arrive you're to say you're from Grove House Maids, got that?”

“Grove House Maids, yes. How about a maid's uniform then? I don't have one, but …”

She was clearly angling for a treat and Peter nodded, more than happy to make what he was sure would be a good investment.

“I'll buy you one, French style, perhaps, with a little pleated skirt and lots of petticoats underneath. I saw one in Soho this morning that would do very nicely—real satin, not the cheap nylon stuff. Okay, have a shower, or whatever you were going to do, then come over my knee for a bit, and we'll go shopping before we visit Clive.”

Sophie nodded and began to undress, ever so slightly shy as she stripped out of her jeans and shirt, underwear and bra, but clearly aware of Peter's presence and that he was enjoying the view. She stayed fully nude as she dug a towel out from her chest of drawers, leaving her bent over for a moment so that he had a fine view of the split fig of her cunt and the crevice of her bottom. His cock had begun to stiffen in response, and stayed that way as she slipped on a robe and went to shower. He grew harder still when she re-emerged wearing only the towel, and he watched her dry off before applying moisturizer and scent.

“How should I make-up?” she asked when she'd finally finished with her hair-dryer.

“No more than a touch,” he advised. “You want to look like a naughty schoolgirl, or a saucy maid as the case may be, but not an out and out hooker. Never use too much make-up unless you're in fetish gear or something else really outrageous, otherwise it just makes you look cheap. First though, come on, over my knee. I've waited long enough.”

Sophie's mouth moved into the briefest of pouts before she responded, coming to him and laying herself down across his lap with her hands and feet braced on the floor and her bottom raised high. Peter was smiling as he turned up her towel to bare her ass, and he took the opportunity to explore her bottom for a while before laying on the smacks. She didn't seem to mind, lying passive over his lap even as he lewdly parted her cheeks. The spanking made her wriggle and gasp a little, but she made no complaint. Indeed, she just seemed to accept it as something that happened … and it just so happened to leave her cunt wet and the air full of the scent of excited girl.

Peter's reaction had been much the same, a stiff cock and the need to come before doing anything else. Sophie seemed compliant rather than eager, perhaps enjoying the feeling of being obliged to accept the spanking rather than having to ask for it. So when he'd finished her off with a last few firm swats and helped her down from his lap, he simply unzipped his fly and pulled free his burgeoning erection as he spoke.

“Actually, if you wouldn't mind sucking me off?”

Sophie made a face but got to her knees, accepting his cock in her mouth. Peter sat back, watching her suck. The sight of a pretty girl with a mouthful of cock was always appealing, but Sophie's reaction was very different to Michelle's. Shy, slightly unsure of herself, her expression suggested that it was something she was doing because she had to, and not really enjoying at all. That didn't stop her doing her best, or milking him into her open mouth when he finally came. But there was no mistaking the disgust on her face as the cum splashed across her cheeks and nose as well as filling her mouth to leave a sticky white pool on her tongue.

“Swallow it,” Peter ordered, half expecting her to refuse.

Her response was a weak nod, then a gulp, with her face screwed up in utter revulsion as she took his semen down into her belly. Peter began to apologize, wondering if he'd pushed her too far. But Sophie's face broke suddenly into a wide, beaming grin.

“Thank you!” she said brightly. “That was so … so humiliating.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Peter answered. “Now, once you've wiped your face, dressed and done your make-up, we're off to Soho for the prettiest, kinkiest maid's uniform money can buy. Then to Clive for another spanking.

“Do I have to suck his cock?” Sophie asked, her voice as full of resentment as it had been with happiness a moment before.

“Yes,” Peter answered, sure it was what she wanted to hear. “You have to suck his cock, and take it in your face, just like you did with me, and swallow.”

She answered with a soft sigh, impossible to interpret, and as she began to rummage in her chest of drawers Peter shook his head and made a quite remark under his breath.

“Catholic girls!”

“Presumably that won't be their normal uniform?” Clive queried as he sat back in one of the leather armchairs provided by the smoking room at Lorrimer's Club. “It's very attractive, but a bit of a give-away, even with a coat over the top. When she turned up at the door, I thought she was naked underneath.”

“I'll choose something more demure once we get going,” Peter promised, before taking a pull on the fine Cuban cigar Clive had ordered for him.

“Are we definitely going ahead then?” Ben asked eagerly.

“There are still a few details to work out,” Peter assured him. “But yes, we are.”

“Might I make a booking?” Ben went on.

“Certainly,” Peter answered and reached into his top pocket for the slim black notebook he'd purchased in order to keep his private records. “Once Grove House Maids is registered as a company and fully up and running, you'll be able to call up whenever you please. But for the moment, just leave everything to me.”

“I'd like to make a booking myself, as it goes,” Gabriel put in. “Just as soon as you have the uniforms sorted out.”

“I'll make that a priority then,” Peter promised and took another pull on his cigar, followed by a swallow of gin and tonic.

Sophie's visit to Clive had been a great success. She had charmed him from the start, introducing herself with a curtsy and taking her coat off to reveal her uniform, then shyly confessing that she'd been sent for a spanking. Clive had risen to the occasion, turning her across his knee and pulling her knickers down for a happy few minutes that had grown happier still once she had her bottom warmed. She had sucked his cock, tugged him off in her face and swallowed what went in her mouth, exactly as promised. Or so Peter believed, as only one summation of the visit had been forthcoming. Sophie had been more than happy to confess her sins to him, while Clive had shown a very gentlemanly reticence. He'd been unable to keep it entirely to himself, though, and had told Ben and Gabriel before inviting them to join Peter and himself at Lorrimer's. Peter was now basking in their admiration and enjoying the experience immensely, just as he had done at Broadfields when making a display of Tiffany or organizing the Great St. Monica's Spanking Show.

“We ought to put Peter up for membership here,” Ben suggested after a while.

“Wouldn't my little stay at Her Majesty's pleasure be a problem?” Peter asked, trying not to betray his sudden surge of euphoria at the suggestion.

“Not at all,” Gabriel assured him. “We have embezzlers, fraudsters of various sorts, a perjurer or two, mainly to do with finance or politics rather than aggravated assault or whatever it was. But all that was a long time ago. You'll get in.”

“Thank you,” Peter asked. “I'm very gratified.”

“They let grammar school boys in nowadays,” Gabriel joked. “So why not the occasional convict? So how many of these scrumptious little poppets do you have on your books? Reliable ones, that is.”

“A reasonable number,” Peter lied. “The recruiting is going well, but these things can't be rushed.”

“Absolutely,” Gabriel agreed, “and remember, we're relying on you not to foul it up, myself especially.”

“Discretion is my watchword,” he assured them, just as an idea hit him as to how to get around the fact that he had only one really safe girl at the moment. “Which is why I'm not going to launch the company properly until the wretched Inspector Lennox is out of the way. Any news, Clive? Did he kick when he heard that he couldn't have all the resources he wanted?”

“Not too violently,” Clive replied. “Or I'd have heard, and I haven't. I suspect he's decided to put promotion ahead of personal considerations, for the time being at least. So, while he won't be actively looking for you, it would be foolhardy to run one of your clubs.”

“That's more or less what I'd expected,” Peter answered. “Thank you. So yes, I can take bookings, but only from the three of you. Sorry, could you excuse me a moment?”

While he'd been speaking a man had walked past the door of the smoking room. He was tall, white haired, elderly but still brisk and with a distinctly military bearing, a man Peter was sure he recognized. There was no sign of him on reaching the lobby, so Peter turned to the beadle behind the desk, thinking back to his first visit so many years before as he spoke.

“Is Charles Finch still a member?” he asked as the beadle looked up.

“The Brigadier? Certainly, sir. He came in this very minute. He'll be in the dining room, I would imagine.”

“Thank you,” Peter answered.

He was full of doubt as he made for the dining room door. Since his expulsion from Broadfields and subsequent imprisonment he barely spoken to any of his family, all of whom had chosen to put the worst possible construction on his actions. Even before that he had earned his father's disapproval by refusing to go into the army and his mother's when she had discovered his hoards of pornographic magazines and photosets—the majority of which were dedicated to spanking. He had always assumed that his Uncle Charles shared his father's views, but up until that point they had always gotten on well and more than twenty years had now passed since his disgrace.