by Sarah Veitch
Don kept his eyes tightly closed as a large palm closed loosely over his manhood; he knew it was the hateful hand of the bouncer. Then he felt the sharp kiss of the whip being applied to his bare backside. The whipping made him wrench his body forward, a movement that made his maleness rub against Val's indifferent fingers. Luce whipped him further and he flinched and was stimulated again.
For long pleasure-pained moments he writhed and whimpered like this whilst the light riding crop made contact with his flanks, crisscrossing them with their history. Then his orgasm claimed him and he roared like a trapped lion and pushed with unashamed desperation against the dominant woman's hand. At the same time Luce laid on the whip another few times, murmuring, 'I'll make you lick all that up in a moment.' Don howled and squirmed then moaned as the contact was repeated again. His passion finally spent itself and the women stood back and he curled onto his side in orgasmic exhaustion. He held his sated groin in one cupped hand and closed his eyes...
When he woke up, the bouncer had brought in mineral water and little snacks on sticks. Don ate and drank gratefully after Val had given him permission. 'After all, boy, we need you to get your strength back,' Luce said.
Don looked shyly at her and all of the questions his dream self had asked now wholly deserted him. 'Yes, Mistress,' he mumbled, eyes worshipping her cruel brown eyes and long black hair.
He got submissively onto the floor and crawled along till he reached her high gloss shoes. He kissed each shoe tip. 'Oh, I think I want you to kiss further up,' Luce said throatily, spreading her legs. She had no knickers on so his tongue found immediate access. 'Some clubs say No Jacket Required,' she said huskily, 'but I say No Panties Required.'
'Or underpants,' Don muttered, taking his mouth away from her treasures for a moment.
'You'll wish that you had your little panties on for protection if you take your lips away again,' the songstress said.
Happy to oblige, Don licked and licked. After all, how many men of his age got to bring the woman of their dreams to fruition? Even if a hot arse was the price he had to pay.
He licked like a thirsty dog at a pool and all too soon he felt the distant beauty's fingers close on his neck, heard her catch her breath then start to cry out in a voice that was half-animal and half-human. It would never make the top ten but it was sweet music to his ears. Don kept licking and licking, teasing out every last moan of her pleasure. At last it was her turn to flop back against the cushions exhaustedly.
Still feeling servile, he lay back down on the floor on his naked stomach and kept his mouth pressed against one of her feet. His T-shirt was now rucked up above his armpits and he longed for a long soapy shower. But he'd stay here with Luce for as long as she allowed it - he'd do anything to stay near Luce.
He thought he was dreaming when she said her next words. 'I think I'll mount you now.'
'You mean have sex with me?' Don had never had sex with anyone except in his imagination.
'Yes, I'd go on top and slide down your shaft and then ride you like a horse.'
'I'd love it,' Don croaked, knowing that was the world's biggest understatement. He rolled with lightening speed onto his back, his maleness hard.
'There's just one thing - you have to please Val first with your tongue,' Luce said, giving him a mischievous grin. Don blushed with new levels of belittlement. Surely he couldn't be expected to lip-service the hateful bouncer? 'It's both of us or none of us,' Luce said.
'Please - just you,' Don begged, his arousal shrinking.
'You lick Val and then I mount you,' Luce clarified again.
Breathing hard, Don got back onto his hands and knees and crawled over to the hugely-muscled woman. She grinned at him triumphantly before he pressed his soft mouth between her thick round thighs. Obediently he put his tongue to her flesh and felt her torso moving. He looked up to see her fingering the strap around her waist. 'I like women, as I said, so men have to lick extra hard to bring me pleasure. But if you don't succeed I'll have to punish you with my belt.'
'And then you can watch me ride him,' Luce whispered to Val, and Don quivered anew at the thought of the sneering bouncer staring into his flushed features as he lost his virginity, 'I don't care about a jacket or panties - but an audience is always required.'
Maid To Please
'Any reception work available?' Sherry asked as she reached the temping agency's front desk. She smiled confidently, knowing that her russet velvet skirt suit and matching boots would undoubtedly impress them. This was her one good outfit, her other clothes being faded through wear and tear.
'I don't think so, dear.' The older woman flicked through their books. 'We don't even have any typing vacancies. We've lots of semi-skilled manufacturing jobs plus this specialised cleaning job that came in today.'
Cleaning. Sherry's heart sank. She'd wanted something glamorous like hotel reception work where she might get an outfit and a hairdressing allowance. 'It's not quite what I had in mind.'
'Truly exceptional rates. Twelve pounds an hour,' the manager continued. She frowned at the card. 'My colleague was writing down the details when she was called away, so I don't have the full specification. But if you just want to make your way to Forest's End House...?'
An hour later Sherry showed the two security guards at Forest's End her introduction card from the temping agency and one of them led her to the staff entrance of the Victorian mansion. The out-of-work actress had never before seen such huge private gardens or so breathtaking a house.
'Madam Binchet, the owner, is French,' he explained, 'just don't get mixed up and call her Mrs, okay?'
'Bit of a dragon, is she?' Sherry murmured, glad that the guard was clearly appreciating the view he was getting.
'Let's just say I've seen some of the young staff leave in tears.'
A few minutes later the two women met for the very first time. Twenty-four year old Sherry felt slightly too curvy and disarmingly petite in the presence of the tall slender Frenchwoman, who looked to be a very well toned mid-thirties. Madam Binchet's clothes, hair and makeup all spoke of money and of a breeding that went back centuries.
'I'm so pleased that the agency found us someone with experience in cleaning stately homes,' she said in perfect English as she extended her hand to the younger woman, 'otherwise we have to give in-house training and it takes several days.'
'Oh, I all but renovated the Manor Lodge,' Sherry lied, naming the huge national trust property she'd lived near as a child.
Three hours later she was coming to the end of her first shift when a tall shadow blocked her light. 'I told you to use the conditioning mousse on the radiators,' the Frenchwoman said sharply.
'But there was a mark that wouldn't come off. This is much stronger.' Sherry smiled to soften her answer and held up the more powerful spray.
'It's stronger because it contains bleach - a bleach that you've let drip onto the carpet,' the woman replied.
Sherry looked at the thick red carpet - or more specifically at the inches of it below the radiator. There were ugly pink blotches where the bleach had already taken some of the colour and the thickness from the expensive weave.
God knows how much damage she'd done - possibly the carpet was irreplaceable. 'I didn't know about the bleach,' she muttered, playing nervously with the top button of her new overalls.
'But you told me you were au fait with specialist cleaning,' Madam Binchet said. She raised a no-nonsense eyebrow. 'Where on earth did you train?'
It was time to come clean, Sherry thought miserably, wincing at the unintended pun. 'I lied,' she admitted, widening her eyes in the hope that the older woman would find her appealing. 'I'm an actress - mainly Shakespearian. But I get through the lean times by doing temping work.'
'And when I send word back to the agency you'll never temp again.'
This was getting worse. Sherry licked her lips. 'Maybe I could put in some extra unpaid hours to make amends?'
'There's no point, given that you don't know
what you're doing,' the Lady of the House said dismissively. 'You've already caused untold damage.'
'But you could watch over me.'
'I've a cleaning crew of thirty to manage - and I have to arrange all of our Open Days. No, I'll complain to the agency now.'
'Please don't.' Sherry stayed kneeling on the floor, but reached out and touched her superior's arm in a supplicating gesture. 'I'll do anything you want.'
Her words seemed to have an effect on the Frenchwoman, because for the first time she hesitated and stared long and hard. 'You'd accept a spanking followed by a caning?'
Had the woman gone mad? Sherry felt the shamed heat rush to her cheeks. She gave a little uncertain laugh, but the aristocrat clearly didn't share her sense of humour. 'You can't be serious. You can't...'
'When I lived in France I ran a private college for young ladies,' Madam Binchet said calmly, 'and I found that the lazy ones and the dishonest ones responded well to the most stringent discipline.'
'But I'm twenty-four,' Sherry said, stalling for time. 'I'm not a teenager and we're not in school.'
'My college girls were twenty-two when they graduated. And it's about attitude rather than age,' the Frenchwoman said. She stroked Sherry's shoulder length curls as if they belonged to a spaniel. 'Well, do you settle for a quick fix or do you accept that you'll never work again for the best temping agency in town?'
Put like that, the first option didn't sound so bad. She didn't want to remain unemployed and she definitely couldn't afford to pay for the damaged carpet. 'Okay - the quick fix,' Sherry forced out, staring at the ground.
'Good girl.' Madam Binchet walked to the window and pulled down the blinds then picked up a chair, carrying it effortlessly into the centre of the drawing room. She sat down on it and patted her lap. 'Now stretch yourself out across my knee.'
'This is madness,' Sherry muttered as she got reluctantly to her feet. She avoided looking at her employer as she walked towards her. She took a deep breath before draping herself incongruously over the waiting lap.
'No - this is necessary,' the older woman said. Sherry breathed hard and fast as she felt strong fingers unbuttoning her overall and discarding it, before raising her skirt inch by inch until it was above her waist. 'I only ever give bare bottomed spankings; they are so much more effective. So your panties will have to come down,' her punisher said.
Sherry shuddered as the thin turquoise garment was stripped away from her timid backside. Now she was wearing only her dove-grey hold ups which accentuated the nudity of her tender cheeks.
'Have you been spanked by a Frenchwoman before?' her superior asked.
'I've never been spanked by anyone,' Sherry muttered, staring down at the Axminster carpet.
'That's a pity for you as your arse won't have built up any tolerance. And we French are renowned for our discipline, especially the martinet.' Sherry quivered as she felt the foreign woman's hands kneading her silken hemispheres. 'But I only have my English cane here. Still, it's highly appropriate. What is it they call it - le vice anglais?'
'It's not my vice,' Sherry said between clenched teeth, wondering how she was to endure this ignominy. She was usually the pretty receptionist that other men and women admired, or the incandescent actress. She'd never before been a victim about to be spanked and caned.
'Too much talking and not enough arse warming,' the older woman said. Sherry sensed that she'd raised her right arm - then she felt a firm hand and five bony digits connecting harshly with her posterior. She just had time to draw breath before the spank was repeated again. And so it continued, the stronger woman thoroughly marking and reddening the buttocks of the younger, till Sherry was sure that her bottom was as hot as a griddle at suppertime.
'How many more, Madam?' she muttered, desperately lifting and lowering her feet in time with each spank and drumming her fingers against the chair legs.
'Well, when we stop the spanking the caning starts - so tell me when you're ready to taste the rod,' her dominator said. She spanked on. Sherry yelped and squirmed and tried to think. The caning was inevitable so she might as well get it over with now rather than have this hellish enforced palm on buttock contact going on and on.
'I'm ready for my caning, Madam,' she forced out, then added, 'And I'm really sorry that I got the carpet in such a sorry state.'
'It won't be as sorry as your arse is when I've finished welting it,' the stately house owner said. Sherry could hear a vacuum cleaner being used overhead and she prayed that none of the other men or women working here would enter. She couldn't bear to have an audience seeing her taste the merciless cane.
Madam Binchet released her arms and let her slide to the floor. Sherry automatically put her hands back to rub at her glowing hindquarters. 'Bad girl - never touch your sore bottom without permission.' The Frenchwoman slapped her massaging palms away.
Sherry watched her stand up and walk towards the area of carpet she'd damaged earlier on. It was below a radiator and to one side of a window. Now her superior opened the window blind.
'Madam - someone might see,' Sherry protested, sitting wincingly on her hot bottom rather than risk having a Peeping Tom ogle it.
'Exactly - the thought that a gardener or security guard might notice your red bum will add an extra chagrin to my vengeance,' the rich woman said, looking well-pleased with herself.
'I could refuse,' Sherry muttered unconvincingly.
'Now, we've been down that road before,' Madam said. 'You clearly needed this work enough to lie - so the last thing you want is a blemished record that will lead to long term unemployment.'
'It's just... I feel so stupid,' Sherry said.
'The sheer bite of the cane will take your mind off all that,' her dominator replied, placing a coat stand in front of the long arched window. Sherry trembled and wondered what was coming next. 'There - now you can look down at the carpet you stained as I'm welting your arse for you,' the older woman explained. For the former head of a girl's school she used the language of the gutter, Sherry thought mutinously, flushing some more.
She stayed on the ground until the Frenchwoman clapped her hands. 'Get that bottom over here before it earns an extra thrashing.'
'How many am I due?' Sherry whispered, advancing apprehensively towards the waiting stand.
'Six for starters,' her superior said, slapping one palm against the other, 'but if you're naughty I'll make it more.'
By the time Sherry reached the older woman, her skirt had slid down over her hindquarters again. She was very glad of its total concealment. 'Dear, dear. We want a fully bared bottom. This won't do at all,' Madam Binchet said. She reached down and took hold of Sherry's hem then pulled the skirt slowly up until it was bunched above her waistline. Then she took two safety pins from the top pocket of her jacket and pinned the skirt so that it remained high above the younger girl's waist. 'That's the good thing about organising such a huge household. One is always prepared,' she said.
Sherry stood, blushing, with her arms at her sides. 'Take hold of the hooks at the top of the coat stand,' her disciplinarian added with a satisfied smile. Sherry hesitatingly did so. The movement tautened her soft buttocks still further and she could tell that it made them an admirable target for the imminent cane. 'Now I'm going to my bedroom to fetch the rod. Obviously it's not the kind of thing one leaves lying around in the public rooms,' the Frenchwoman explained.
'Obviously,' Sherry muttered, trying to recapture a little of her earlier spirit.
'Any insubordination will earn you further stripes,' the woman said. She patted Sherry's well-spanked spheres. 'You just maintain the position and think about how sore your little bum will get. I'll be back in a minute. Don't go away.'
Sherry didn't go away but she took her hands from the handles as soon as her dominator had left the room. She touched her buttocks and was surprised to find that the heat was already fading. She hurried over to the long mirror which graced the furthest wall and could see that only a general pinkness and s
ome overlapping fingermarks remained.
Then she hurried back to her stance. She knew that the cane wouldn't fade so fast and that she daren't earn any additional lashes. She'd have to grit her teeth and endure this six of the best.
She was obediently holding the coat stand handles when Madam returned. The woman was carrying what looked like a violin case. When she opened it, Sherry could see that it contained a long slender yellow cane. 'Kiss it,' the older woman instructed. Sherry pressed her lips against the dry rattan of the punisher. 'Beg for forgiveness,' her superior said.
'I'm truly sorry about the damage I did,' Sherry whispered, and had to use all of her willpower to keep her hands from moving back to protect her exposed soft contours. She so pitied their tender helplessness.
'A little sizzling of those succulent globes will help you make amends,' her tormentor said. She stepped behind the fearful girl. Sherry screwed up her eyes and clenched her teeth and waited for the rod's first searing contact. 'I should add,' Madam Binchet continued, 'that if you let go of the coat stand I will repeat that stroke - and it'll be harder the second time around.'
'Yes, Miss,' Sherry muttered and cast a quick look out into the garden where two peacocks strutted. Thankfully there was no human presence there.
Her next thoughts were stolen away by the cruel impact of the cane. She cried out and instinctively let go of her stance, putting her hands behind her and rubbing furiously at the vermilion tramline.
'Oh dear. I have to dole that one out again.' The affluent woman paused and caressed the impoverished girl's quivering rotundities. 'And what did I tell you about repeat strokes, my dear?'
Sherry squirmed at the woman's touch and at her words. 'That it would be harder the second time around.'
'That's right. Now assume the position,' her dominator said.
The twenty-four year old reached for the wooden handles again and gripped them fiercely. The temping agency had better find her a good job after this. Madam Binchet seemed to read her mind, for she said, 'You know, such discipline will stand you in good stead in the future. You'll think of this before acting rashly and I guarantee that you won't make a second mistake.'
