by Lucy Tucker
“Ahh, ahh, ahh!”
Beth began to cry out, and her movements became urgent. Chance shifted position, freeing Beth’s legs, and she immediately drew her knees up, tilting her pelvis backwards. His strokes became longer, going even deeper, and he felt himself nearing climax.
“Aah, aaah!” Beth screamed, writhing underneath him. She threw her head back, arching her spine and pushing her breasts towards him. Chance took her nipple between his teeth, and as he bit down Beth exploded in a shuddering climax.
“Ahh, fuck yes. Yes. Yes!”
Chance felt himself coming, and he almost blacked out as he emptied himself in a shuddering, raging torrent. It seemed to go on forever, his muscles tensing and relaxing over and over until the final, prolonged spasm. His head dropped, and he lay with his cheek cradled on Beth’s heaving chest, thoroughly spent.
“That was unbelievable,” said Beth, in a low husky voice. “It’s never been like that, ever.”
“I’ll say.” Chance was still breathing hard, and he felt like he’d sprinted for miles. “That was amazing.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Chance rolled on his side and took his hand in hers. “Beth, I’m serious. That was special.”
“You’re sweet.” She smiled at him. “You’re very good too, but I think you know that already.”
“Don’t. You’ll give me a big head.”
Beth curled her hand around his shaft. “Promises, promises.”
“Give me five minutes to recover.”
“Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“No, go ahead.”
Chanced watched as Beth got up and padded to the bathroom. She had a fabulous body, shapely and with a full figure. Her breasts were large, the nipples dark, and her buttocks were firm and round. Five minutes or not, Chance began to harden just at the sight of her. Idly, he put his fingers around his shaft, hardening even more as he remembered the warmth of her as she moved underneath him. Then, with a jolt, he remembered the maid. Without turning his head he darted a glance to his left. Sure enough, he could just make out her silhouette, outlined against the dim glow from the next room.
Beth opened the bathroom door, and light briefly spilled out. In the sudden glare Chance saw the maid’s skirt was hitched up, her knickers caught halfway down her milky thighs. Her pubic hair was a tiny black triangle, the dark hair barely showing between her slim legs. She had one hand on her thigh, her thumb turned upwards, and as he watched she slid the thumb into herself, opening her legs wide as it went in. Her eyes were shut and her head was tilted back, and she seemed to have completely forgotten the couple she’d been snooping on, lost instead in her own passion.
At the sight of her masturbating, Chance hardened immediately. The shower was running now, and he could picture Beth soaping herself, running the water over her magnificent breasts and down her rounded thighs. And here, almost in the room, the maid was pleasuring herself while he watched.
It was too much for Chance. He began to slide his hand up and down in earnest, seeking a quick release. Through half-closed eyes he saw the maid driving her thumb into herself, pausing to give a quick twist at the top of every stroke. Her head was moving from side to side, and her legs seemed to be in danger of giving out. Chance wished he could hold her slender body to his, make her passion his, bring her to the edge and drive her beyond. Instead, he had to be content with watching, pretending not to notice as he slaked his own passion.
He felt the pressure building, and when the maid threw her head back with a little cry, spasming with her legs parted wide and her thumb moving in and out like lightning, he came violently.
Then he realised the shower had stopped.
“You could have waited,” said Beth, from the bathroom doorway.
“Sorry, I …” Chance smiled ruefully. “I watched you going to the shower, and —”
“Naughty boy.” Beth grinned. “I guess you’ll want another five minutes?”
“No, I’m ready.”
“Are you sure? You look tired out to me.”
“Come here and I’ll prove it.”
“Before I come back to bed …” Beth hesitated.
She seemed embarrassed, and Chance gave her an encouraging smile. “What is it?”
“My friends from work. They got me a joke gift before I came away.”
“Don’t tell me, I can guess. A huge novelty dildo, right?”
Beth ran her gaze over him. “Like I’d need one with you around.”
“That’s kind of you, but I’m not huge.”
“Oh, I meant your ego.”
Chance stuck his tongue out, and Beth laughed.
“So, about this mystery gift,” he prompted.
“Oh hell. Why don’t I just show you?” Beth opened the wardrobe and bent over, giving him a wonderful view. She compounded it by wiggling her hips. “By the way,” she said, her voice echoing inside the wardrobe. “Is that five minutes up yet?”
Chance felt a familiar stir as Beth shook her buttocks at him, putting on a most attractive display. “I just lost count, but up is the right word.”
Then she came back, carrying a plastic bag. “You’re not going to laugh, are you?”
“I doubt it.”
“It’s a bit embarrassing.”
“Relax. I’m all ears.”
Beth glanced down. “All cock, you mean.”
“He won’t laugh either. I promise.”
“He won’t if I cover him up.” Beth leant forward an planted a kiss on the tip of his shaft, briefly lapping her tongue around the crown before sitting up again. “Now, are you both listening?”
“You have my undivided attention, unless you do that again.”
Beth did it again, taking the crown further into her mouth. Chance closed his eyes, and he moaned softly with pleasure.
“So, this present of mine.”
With an effort, Chance concentrated. “Present. Right.”
Beth took out a cardboard box, bright pink with a bow on top. At first Chance thought his dildo guess was correct, but when she raised the lid he saw a pair of handcuffs. They were padded with fluffy pink fabric, with white tassels on either end. “All right,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s a fair cop.”
“They’re not for you. They’re for me.”
“The last time I restrained you, you swore at me.”
Beth licked her lips. “Do you really want me restraining you?”
“Okay. First you, then me.”
“With another five minutes in between?”
“You know what?” said Chance. “Life’s short. Screw the five minutes.”
Beth pressed the cuffs into his hands. “I want you to secure me good. Face down this time. Then …” she swallowed. “Tell me off. Smack me.”
“As you wish.”
“No, as you command.” Beth stretched out on the bed, reaching up to the headboard so Chance could close the handcuffs on her wrist. Then she raised her smooth buttocks. “I’m sorry I’ve been bad. I didn’t mean it.”
Chance knelt on the bed alongside her. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’ll have to be punished.”
“Please, no. I —”
Slap!
His hand connected sharply, making the flesh quiver. Beth cried out in pain, and when he raised his hand he saw it had left a red mark across her cheeks.
Slap!
His hand came down harder this time, and Beth jerked the handcuffs, making the bed shake.
Slap!
“Aah!”
Chance felt a rising heat as he administered the slaps, both from Beth’s cries of pleasure and pain, and the trembling of her reddened buttocks. He adjusted his position, and as he did so he caught sight of the mirror above the bed. He could see the room clearly, and over his shoulder the maid was visible in the doorway. She was holding her three middle fingers together, forming a thick pillar, and was slowly easing them into herself. Her long dark hair had broken loos
e, spilling over her face, and her expression was pure ecstasy.
Then he remembered Beth, and he applied a hefty smack to her rear.
Slap!
“Harder! Harder!”
SLAP!
“Aah. Yes!”
SLAP!
Her buttocks were raised towards him, red and mottled from his hand, and he could stand it no longer. He knelt behind her, felt for her with the tip of his shaft, then drove into her, slamming home so hard the whole bed rocked like an earthquake. He withdrew, only to pound her again and again, slapping himself against her soft buttocks. She screamed again and again, her voice muffled by the pillow. Chance felt himself coming, and he threw his head back and cried out in pure pleasure as he spurted again and again.
Beth shuddered, spasming and screaming beneath him. In the mirror, Chance saw the maid with her knees apart, burying her fingers up to the knuckles, withdrawing, burying them even further, the back of her hand slick and wet with her juices. She came violently, jerking and staggering on unsteady legs, leaning against the door frame for support. Her movements finally slowed, ending with a final, lingering shudder.
Chance slid his hands over Beth’s buttocks, soothing the bright red marks. He withdrew slowly, and then they both collapsed side by side, thoroughly spent. Chance looked towards the adjoining doorway, where the maid had been pleasuring herself, but the door was shut and there was no evidence she’d ever been there.
Ten minutes later he heard Beth’s even breathing as she slept. Silently, he removed the handcuffs, and then he kissed her tenderly on the cheek and left.
When he left Beth’s room, still buttoning up his shirt, Chance almost walked into the maid. Her cheeks were rosy, her skirt was in disarray and there was a strand of hair hanging over her face. He told himself he’d imagined her watching from the doorway, that the girl had just been working hard. Then he noticed the satiated, satisfied look in her eyes, a look he knew all too well. “Good evening, miss.”
“Yes, very,” said the maid, and she walked away pushing her trolley.
About Chance for a Maiden …
When a hotel maid falls into his arms, sobbing her heart out, Luke Chance discovers he can’t get her out of his mind.
This 6500-word short story starts slowly, tempting and teasing you on the way to an explosive climax.
Chance #2 - Chance for a Maiden
Luke Chance stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feel of the king-sized hotel bed. It was just after ten in the morning, and he was getting some well-earned rest after a long and very energetic night. He felt at peace with the world, and when room service arrived with breakfast his life would be complete. He’d placed his order the middle of the night, selecting all of his favourites for morning delivery, timed for arrival soon after he woke up. It wasn’t every day he got to stay in a five-star hotel, and he was determined to make the most of it.
There was a polite knock, and Chance got up and strolled to the door, donning his dressing gown on the way. Outside was a maid with a serving trolley, and his nose was treated to a symphony of bacon, eggs, buttered toast and coffee. “That smells great,” he said, with a smile.
“Shall I bring it in for you?”
Chance held the door open, leaving room for the trolley. As the maid walked past he frowned to himself, wondering where he’d seen her before. Her name tag read ‘Anna’, but that didn’t ring any bells. She had a plain face, and her dark hair was tied back in a rather untidy bun. Then it came to him, and his face cleared. “You were on the fourth floor last night, weren’t you?”
The girl blushed, the fetching shade of red covering her cheeks before spreading all the way to her neckline. “I—I don’t know. It’s possible.”
Chance smiled to himself. He’d seen her on the fourth floor all right. How could he forget? She’d been watching him through a dividing door, pleasuring herself while he pleasured another.
He watched her transferring dishes from the trolley to his table, working quickly and efficiently. She was wearing a black skirt with a white apron, and Chance admired the way her legs and buttocks moved under the thin fabric.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No, that’s fine. Here, this is for you.” Chance handed her a bill, and led the way to the door.
Just before they got there, she paused. “Are you staying in the hotel long, sir?”
“No, I’m checking out tomorrow morning.”
“Will you need room service later?”
Chance smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t know yet.” He didn’t add that it depended whether he met anyone in the hotel bar, although the odds were on his side. During his brief stay he’d barely seen the inside of his own room, and at the rate he was going he’d need a second holiday just to recover from this one. “I’ll try and the give the kitchen a bit more notice, okay?”
“Thank you, sir. You’re very kind.” The maid seemed to hesitate, opening her mouth as if to ask another question. Then she looked away.
“What is it? You can tell me.”
“The lady, last night. Is she … your girlfriend?”
Chance shook his head. “We met downstairs, in the bar.”
“How do you do that?”
“I’m sorry?” Chance blinked. Was she going to give him a lecture on his morals? Hand him a leaflet on the perils of casual sex? “What I get up to in my private life … that’s not really any of your business, is it?”
The girl looked mortified. “I—I didn’t mean that! I—”
To Chance’s horror, she burst into tears. Before he could stop himself he’d taken her in his arms, her face against his chest and her body wracking with sobs. They stood like that for several minutes, her crying gradually subsiding until she pulled away. “I’m sorry. I made your shirt wet,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“Never mind the shirt,” said Chance gently. “What’s the matter? How can I help?”
The maid looked him in face, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “How old do you think I am?” she demanded.
Chance groaned inwardly. If he went the wrong way she’d be upset and angry. “Er … nineteen?”
“I’m twenty-four,” said the girl quietly. “Twenty-four years old, and no man has ever looked at me.”
“Is that what you were asking me before? How to meet someone?”
The maid nodded.
Chance took her by the shoulders. “The right person is out there for you, believe me,” he said gently. “There must be guys you work with, someone you can meet after work.”
“I don’t want to meet someone. I want to …” She glanced towards the bed, the covers still rumpled. “I—” Suddenly, she shrugged off his hands and ran across the room, sobbing. She pulled the door open and left, letting it swing to behind her.
Chance took a deep breath, then wheeled her forgotten food trolley into the corridor. No doubt they’d send her back for it, and the least he could do is spare her the embarrassment of knocking on his door to ask for it. After a quick look up and down the corridor, he returned to his room, closing the door behind him. Then he made a start on his breakfast. The food was great, but the maid’s distress had dispelled his earlier mood of contentment. His shirt was still damp from her tears, and he could still feel her slender body in his arms, shaking with sobs and taut with pent-up frustration.
Chance eyed his bedside clock. The figures glowed green in the darkness, showing one-thirty in the morning. He was stretched out in bed with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling as he waited for sleep to come. No luck so far.
The bar had been busy tonight, and three different women had approached him during the evening, offering to buy him drinks, giving him all the right signals. Each of them hinted they were single and willing, and one had even written her room number on a napkin.
In each case he’d made his excuses, turning them down. He couldn’t help it. All day he’d been replaying that morning’s scene with the maid, remembering her firm body in his arms,
her tears, and the way she’d run away in distress. Where was she now? At home somewhere, crying herself to sleep? Out getting drunk? Or was she still working?
Chance came to a sudden decision. He lifted the receiver and dialled the front desk.
“Good evening, Mr Chance. How may I help you?”
“Can you put me through to room service?”
“Of course, sir.”
There was a click, and another voice came on, a woman this time. “Good evening, Mr Chance. Would you like to order breakfast?”
“Can I get something sent up now?”
“I’m afraid the kitchen is closed.” The woman relented. “If you like, we can make you a sandwich.”
“Sure, that’ll be fine.”
“What would you like?”
“Anything. I’m not fussy. And thank you.”
Chance hung up, slightly embarrassed. He felt like a bashful schoolboy arranging an ‘accidental’ meeting with a girl he had a crush on. He was a grown man, not an eighth-grader! He ought to march down to the kitchens, ask after this Anna and check she was all right, not order room service and hope she was the one who delivered it to him. The chances were fifty to one anyway, and after that morning’s episode they were probably closer to zero.
Ten minutes later there was a discreet knock at the door. Chance threw on his dressing down and hurried across the room. His heart was beating fast, and a thrill ran through him as he pulled the door open. Then … his hopes were dashed.
“Room service,” said the woman in the corridor. She was short and blonde, in her late thirties, with a kindly face. Her name tag read ‘Miriam’.
Chance took the tray and felt in his pocket for a tip, before remembering he was wearing a dressing-gown. “Just a moment. I’ll be right with you.” He set the tray down inside his room and dug in his wallet, pulling out a note. “Here. Thanks for bringing it up.”
