Maid to Order Read Free

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,