So it was, that a brain frozen Jules, stood on the naughty girl step in his short maid’s uniform avoiding eye contact with his wife, whilst his wife’s Bull, Damon, stood before him.
With pussy damping interest, Jules’ wife Marianne was engrossed in the spectacle of her maid attired husband being placed on the naughty girl step by her hot Bull. She endured sexual need like never before. Her pussy actually felt empty, needing to be filled by the quietly powerful Bull.
For his part, the Bull, Damon was concerned for the maid’s welfare.
“I think we’re looking at over 24 spanks with the cane. I know you hate the crop, maid. So, I think I have a way forward.”
Relief. Jules closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. His legs weakened as he could see a reprieve coming. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment. What could be worse than being spanked by a vicious crop while standing on the humiliating naughty girl’s step?
“You see,” the Bull said thoughtfully, “the way I see it, is that you just got a little bit over excited earlier. Carried away. Is that fair?”
Jules immediately grabbed at the gift on offer.
“Oh yes, Sir. Yes. Quite right.”
“What is right, maid?” Damon asked innocently.
After a quick glance at his wife, who Jules could see was trying not to laugh, he closed his eyes, and said what he had to in order to escape punishment.
“Well, Sir, that I,” inside shame was tearing him apart as he said the words, “I think I, well, yes, that I got a little bit over excited and carried away.”
He opened his eyes and added with desperation, “But I am really sorry now, Sir.”
Damon nodded, “That is really good to hear maid. You’ve learnt your lesson then?”
Knowing he would have to play the Bull’s game, Jules said, “Yes Sir. I have definitely learnt my lesson.”
“Excellent,” Damon announced. “I always think the world is in its correct orbit when maids know their place.”
The Bull paused, with Jules realising that was a cue for him to speak.
“Oh yes, Sir. Quite right.”
“In which case, I feel like being generous,” Damon smiled, as if his liberal kindness was a gift to the planet. “You will only be given 12 spanks of the crop.”
“Sir, I thought you said …”
“Quiet, maid, when someone is speaking.” Damon paused, staring so hard at the maid, that Jules had to lower his head. Before continuing, “I thought you said you had learnt your lesson?”
Jules’ face opened up like a pleading child. “Well, yes, Sir. Really!”
For a horrible age, Damon pondered the maid’s sincerity before finally, grinning and splaying out his arms. “Excellent. I think you have. So now I will finish my thoughts without further interruptions, I hope.”
Lowering his chin to his frilly maid’s uniform, Jules said quietly, “Yes, Sir.”
“So, 12 spanks for raising your voice and failing to address us properly. But,” he paused with one of his winning smiles, “a suspended sentence for the remaining 12 for arguing and behaving like a spoiled brat. There! How does that sound?”
Jules was dumbfounded. He was going to be beaten 12 times and the remaining 12 would be added to a future punishment if he was naughty again? He had to object. He would live in fear of doing even the slightest wrong action knowing that he would get additional spanks.
Before the maid found the pluck to speak, Marianne, his wife, looked up dreamily to her lover.
“Oh Sir. You are so kind and thoughtful. So considerate and fair.”
She placed her hand on his suited arm and he leaned down to give her a noisy, long, tongue dancing kiss.
Jules was furious that his wife would throw herself at the Bull. Jules knew Damon was trying to be helpful, in his own inept way, but even so 12 strikes of the crop was simply too much. Surely, his wife should stand up for her husband.
As Damon leaned stiffly back from the kiss, so Marianne, reached up and curled her arms around his neck, dragging him back into the deep smooch, her naked thighs rubbing against each other beneath her short, light dress.
And Jules suffered in pouty silence. He understood Marianne’s needs for a ‘real man’ as she put it. Someone to whom she could fully submit. And yes, Jules had always fantasied about a powerful male dominating them both and him being the maid. But right now, he needed her support if he was to avoid a horrible spanking with the crop.
His wife groaned in that way she always did before orgasming. A deep roaring noise, that came from her tummy.
Her Bull wasn’t even inside her! A few times he had asked her why she orgasmed when she was merely being cuddled and kissing with the Bull. She would merely just flip her fingers at him, “you wouldn’t understand.”
So, a frustrated maid stood, holding up the back of his skirt awaiting irritably some attention from either Sir or the Mistress.
Damon had pushed back from Marianne, but they kept their eyes locked together. He too was now breathing hard.
Jules cleared his throat for attention whilst glancing innocently up to the ceiling.
“Ah, maid!” Damon said, pulling his jacket together as he stood with the dreaded crop.
Jules could see the thick bulge, lying sideways in Damon’s trousers. Both he and Jules’ wife were alive with sexual need. They couldn’t take their eyes off of each other.
For all his inner fury and humiliation, Jules’ member spurted in its cage as he became light headed in his fizzing subspace.
“I’ve decided to postpone your beating,” a breathless Damon said, not taking his eyes from the curvy woman with the naked legs. “Even the first twelve.”
A sense of release floated up through Jules. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll get on with the ironing and …”
“No.” Damon maintained his relaxed manner, even when giving a command. “Remain there in position like the good maid you want to be.”
In position? Did he mean that Jules should remain on the naughty girl’s step? Or that he should stay on the step and keep his skirt pulled high above his waist at the rear?
Marianne stepped up to the Bull, kissing him lightly on the cheek, before walking past him, dragging her hand across his crotch.
“I think you’ve done very well, maid,” Damon said to Jules, his eyes flicking back to the wife as she headed upstairs. “When we come down you may apologise to your Mistress and we’ll see if we can suspend another 6 spanks. How does that sound?”
A laugh came from Marianne as she reached upstairs.
She called back, “You spoil the maid, Sir.” Then she leaned over the banister with sleepy eyes, “come and spoil me.”
“Treat a maid with firmness but understanding. Isn’t that right, maid?”
Jules knew his cues by now, “Oh yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
Damon shouted back to the hot wife, “I’ll be straight up.”
The footsteps of Marianne tapped quickly up the stairs.
The Bull stood close to the maid, so that he had to slightly look up at her, due to her being raised almost a foot off the floor by the step. “I think you are learning your lessons well. I am here to help you improve your disposition as a maid.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Jules did feel grateful, especially about losing 6 more spankings with the crop. From 24 all the way down to 6!
“So you stay there, like a good girl, on the naughty girl’s step, holding up your skit, while you think of the wording for your apology for your Mistress. Now, how does that sound?”
“Erm, yes. Wonderful. I am so grateful, Sir. Really. I promise to be better behaved.”
“Excellent, maid. I can ask no more.”
The Bull patted the exposed pink lacy panties.
“Oh Sir,” Jules ventures, his mouth dry.
“Sir, please may I close the curtains on the windows. If anyone came up the drive, like the postman or a delivery guy, they would be seeing me plain as day.”
He swallowed hard, obviously the curtains needed to be shut if he was going to be stuck up here while his wife and her lover screwed upstairs.
Damon examined the various windows across the front of the house.
“Maid. All they would see is a naughty maid being chastised. That’s what befalls maids whose disputation is found wanting.”
What? Damon had made the statement with such meaningful sincerity that Jules was dumbfounded. It was as if the foolish Bull thought this would genuinely educate him as a maid!
“But Sir, clearly …”
Damon raised his eyebrows, “Is my maid arguing?”
Another spurt into his in his chastity cage. Another burst of subspace in his silly head. Another feeling of light headed, scattiness through his mind.
Not only did the words fail to come for the shocked Jules, but even the thoughts refused to materialise.
The Bull patted the curvy arse of the maid, musing that it didn’t look too bad for a sissy, before leaving the maid. He was confident that when he returned, she’d be standing in exactly the same pose, though terrified of someone seeing her through the window.
How wonderfully amusing, Damon thought. And hot!
Damon called up the stairs, “Get your knickers off slut, I’m coming up.”
A laugh from upstairs and a shout back, “What makes you think I’m wearing any?”
Really! Suddenly Jules needed to drop the rear of his skirt and rub his chastity cage through the panties to seek some sexual release. He’d have to wait until Damon was safely upstairs.
Yet, oddly, even when Damon joined Jules’ wife upstairs, and the door to the bedroom closed, Jules didn’t move from his position. He shuffled his heels a little, trying to put more pressure on one foot than the other, to ease the discomfort from wearing heels. His eyes were often fixed on the windows looking onto the hedges, scanning them for any evidence of anyone who would see him in his predicament. But obediently he kept his skirt up, occasionally stretching his shoulders for comfort, but the skirt never once fell back over his pink lacy panties.
He smiled. I bet Sir will be impressed when he returns! Gosh! He might even lose the final six spanks from the crop.