Maid Service (5 page)

“You … are … a … little … thief … What are you are?”

“A little thief,” she answered miserably.

“Exactly,” he finished, applying a final smack to now flushed bottom. “But so long as you replace the jam no more need be said. What is your name?”

“Katie Vale,” she answered, now sounding slightly puzzled as she hastily covered her bottom.

“Then run along to bed, Katie Vale,” he said, only to realize that she offered the perfect opportunity to find out how to get to Tiffany's room. “I am new here, as you no doubt realize. Tell me the way to Tiffany Lange's room.”

“Blue Staircase, top floor,” Katie answered quickly, pointed back down the corridor and fled.

She'd left the jam on the floor and Peter quickly appropriated it, his fingers shaking with reaction as he tugged up his habit and pushed the jar into his pocket before making a badly needed adjustment to his cock. His heart was hammering with excitement and arousal, bringing on a sense of invulnerability as he turned back the way he had come. He'd spanked a girl and gotten away with it, and while she'd seemed suspicious he was sure she wouldn't be going to the authorities, an act that would inevitably lead to more of what she'd received in the corridor and probably a great deal harder.

The first staircase he reached was marked by a waist-high stripe, just visible as green against the dull magnolia of the wall. He moved on, to another, narrower stair, this time marked blue, right at the end of the building and presumably below Tiffany's corridor. Climbing swiftly and silently, he passed one floor after another without incident, until at last the staircase opened out onto a landing, beyond which a short corridor showed two doors at either side. Each door bore a neatly written nametag, the first of which was
Lange, T
. He pushed inside without hesitation, into near darkness, form which Tiffany's voice sounded clear and sweet but fraught with alarm.

“Alice? Lottie?”

“No, Peter.”

“Peter! You scared me! What're you doing here anyway? How did you get in?”

“Sh!” he urged. “I had to come. I couldn't keep away. Let me into bed.”

Tiffany complied, pulling back the covers to let him slip in beside her. The bed was soft, warm and smelt girlishly sweet, while her flesh felt firm and infinitely desirable where it pressed to his own through their clothes, setting his cock stiff as he cuddled close. His lips found hers and they melted into a long kiss, but as he began to ease her nightie up over the swell of her bottom she pushed him back a little to speak once more.

“We're going to get caught, Peter. This is lovely, but you have to go!”

“Not yet. You promised that if I came you'd … you'd let me.”

“Yes, but I was playing. I mean, I'm flattered, and I do want to do it, but I can't!”

“Tiffany! Please, for my sake? You can make some excuse.”

“They'd know, they're like that! I … I'll do you in my mouth. You like that. But then you have to go. The penguins come round sometimes. They'll catch us! What have you got on, anyway? Are you wearing a dress?”

“I took a habit and wimple from the laundry. I need you Tiffany, please!?”

“You're dressed as a nun!?”

Her voice was half squeak, half giggle as he eased her nightie up over her hips. Like Katie, she had no panties on underneath, allowing his eager hands straight to bare, nubile flesh, first to stroke and squeeze, then to smack.

“Ow! Peter! You really are a pig, did you know that, and a pervert!”

He'd begun to nuzzle her neck as he explored her bottom, one hand slipping between her cheeks to find her asshole as he moved the other around to cup the soft bulge of her cunt. She sighed and pulled herself closer, but as his finger began to probe the virgin tightness of her hole she pulled back a little and spoke once more, now breathless.

“No, Peter, you can't, not in my pussy. Let me take you in my mouth.”

Peter shook his head as he fumbled up his habit. Tiffany gave a soft, abandoned moan, her back arching to push her cunt against his hand as he continued to fiddle with her, and her voice was full of regret as she spoke again.

“No, you mustn't. I want to, believe me, but I can't, not in my pussy, no …”

She broke off with a cry as his fingers pushed firmly to the tight constriction of her hymen, then pulled suddenly back, speaking fast and urgent even as Peter freed his cock from his fly.

“Not my pussy, Peter, no. If you have to do me, do me up my bottom.”

As she spoke she rolled over, pushing out her naked bottom into his lap and against his now exposed penis. He began to rub his length in the warmth of her slit by instinct, despite being shocked and surprised by her dirty offer. After all, he'd fantasized about putting his cock into her beautiful ass almost as often as he'd fantasized about fucking her properly.

“Up your bottom, really?” he asked.

“Yes,” she insisted, her voice thick with embarrassment. “It's what girls do if a man gets too randy, we let him do it … in our butts.”

“It is?”

“Don't talk about it, Peter, just do it. You're making me feel ashamed of myself.”

“Yes, but … but won't I need to get you ready?”

“Yes … maybe, spit on your finger or something, whatever you do with your friends!”

“I don't do anything with my friends!”

It was true, but he was the exception. Many of his friends had experimented with each other, and he knew full well that an asshole needed to be coaxed open before a cock would go in. Sucking his finger, he eased it between Tiffany's cheeks to find the tiny bud of her anus, tight but moist and receptive, making him wonder if she'd already surrendered herself to another boy.

“Is this your first time?” he demanded as he eased the tip of his finger into the hot, slippery ring of her bottom hole.

“Yes!” she sobbed. “Of course it is! Well, with a man …”

“Eh? So what else goes up there?” he demanded as he eased a second finger into her now taut ring.

“I … I sometimes put the handle of my hairbrush up,” Tiffany gasped. “I can't do it in my pussy, can I? Ooh! You're hurting.”

“Sorry,” Peter answered, extracting his fingers as he imagined how she'd look with a hairbrush sticking out of her bottom hole as she masturbated. “Hang on, I've got some jam.”

“Jam?”

“Yes. I got it off a girl called Katie Vale.”

“Katie? What were you doing with Katie? She's …”

“She was raiding the kitchens. I didn't do anything with her. Well, not much. I smacked her bottom and took her jam off her.”

“You smacked her bottom!?”

“I had to. She thought I was a nun.”

“You didn't have to …”

Peter had retrieved the jam jar from his pocket as they spoke and her aggrieved answer broke to a gasp as he slathered as much as he'd been able to scoop out with two fingers between the cheeks of her bottom, then another as he pushed a finger deep into her now sticky anus.

“You'll get it everywhere!” she protested, but her bottom was still pushed out and she was tugging up her nightie to bare her breasts.

“Kneel up then,” Peter instructed, his finger now pushed as deep into her bottom hole as it would go.

“Filthy pig,” Tiffany answered, but she lost no time in obeying him, throwing back the covers and twisting around to lift her bottom.

Peter's finger had slid from her ass as she moved and he quickly got into position, kneeling behind her with his habit held up and his cock in his hand. She was face down on the bed, the contours of her body just visible now that his eyes had adjusted, her nightie rucked up to show off her breasts, her slender waist flaring to the width of her hips and the tempting roundness of her bottom, her cheeks spread wide to reveal the slick, jam smeared slit between.

“I'm going to do it,” he sighed. “I'm going to butt fuck you, Tiffs.”

“Do it … do it there, go on.”

He didn't need telling, the swollen head of his cock already pressed to her anus. She groaned as he pushed, half pain, half pleasure as her ring began to open, and again, with a note of something like despair creeping into voice as she spread to take him. He pushed again, his cock slipping in deeper with the warm jam to help, and deeper still, with her anus now gaping to accommodate him, she gasped out her passion and squirmed herself against him. Another firm push and he was all the way in, the full length of his erection jammed up into her straining bottom hole and his balls pressed firmly to her empty, virgin cunt.

She was sobbing and groaning in response. Her fingers clutched at the bed sheets and he thought she might be crying, but she made no effort to stop him, holding her pose as he entered her, his arousal rising swiftly as his cock pulled in an out of the tightness of her anal ring and his eyes feasted on her naked body. He was grateful that he'd eased his need earlier. That alone had stopped him from losing his load all over Tiffany's backside before he'd even got in. But he was already having to take it slow to stop himself from losing his cum again when she began to speak once more, her voice soft, urgent and heavy with shame.

“You've got it up my bottom, you dirty pig, right up my bottom … and I let you … and it feels so nice. I must be the most wicked girl there ever was, a harlot, a dirty whore. Spank me, Peter, punish me … smack my naughty bottom while you use me … use me and my forbidden hole.”

He began to spank her immediately, firm, even smacks applied to her parted cheeks as his cock moved in her anus, slowly at first, then faster, until she was gasping out her feelings, her words too broken for him to understand but growing gradually clearer and ever more urgent.

“… punish me, smack me … smack me harder, Peter! Spank me like the dirty little whore I am, with a boy's prick up my butt … deep between my cheeks … do your thing inside me, right up inside me, right into my naughty asshole while you spank me!”

Her voice had risen close to a scream, and Peter hastily clapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up even as he did his best to oblige, pumping into her, her straining anal ring taut on the base of his shaft and the rest of his cock rubbing in the hot, slippery canal of her rectum. A few more firm strokes and he'd done it, creaming deep inside her in a second orgasm, far, far better than the first as she shook and whimpered beneath him, lost in ecstasy and shame for her once-virgin ass. Even as he emptied the creamy contents of his balls into her rectum, her hand had slithered down between her legs, snatching and rubbing at her cunt with the tears streaming down her face as she brought herself to a hard climax, her anus contracting in orgasm, milking the last of his cream out of him and into her well fucked bottom.

Peter stared from the classroom window towards long familiar scenery; the flat green expanse of the playing fields, the line of trees that marked the river, with the woods and fields of the opposite hillside rising beyond. In the years he'd been at Broadfields he'd looked out in much the same manner from a dozen different windows and innumerable times, staring wistfully into the distance and wishing he was anywhere else but cooped up in the classroom, but now his mind burned with thoughts. He'd done it, riding a wave of crazy over-confidence and stubborn bravado to not only visit St. Monica's, but to break in, evade the nuns, spank a pretty young girl and accept the surrender of his girlfriend's anal virginity. He'd even retained the nun's outfit as a trophy.

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 explained. “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.”