The Hotel Chapter Four
The Hotel
Part 4
By Deborah Ford
1. Back to the classroom
School was hectic. When I reached it, the girls were all
standing in the space at the back of the class gyrating to some
rock music. Miss Carrington would frequently change the music.
Some times classical, some times rap, sometimes pop.
“You must be able to dance to any type of music girls,” Mrs.
Carrington would say as we girls bobbed and twirled, or bumped
and grinded.
I was pleased I had missed the first half hour as the other
girls were exhausted by the time we were told to sit down. My
relief was short lived.
“Debbie you stay behind in the coffee break for more dancing
practice. Make up for the time you lost this morning.”
I clenched my fists beneath the desk, “yes Mrs. Carrington”
“And now mathematics,” she announced.
I rose in my seat. I was really good at maths in school. I sat
up straight ready to impress her with my knowledge and speed at
calculations.
She rolled down a long poster showing maths tables. But tables
I had never seen before. They quite simply did not make sense.
Shelly was still breathing hard from the dancing and shot me a
quizzical glance. What on earth were the charts about?
The first one was a long list that began with 1 + 1 = 3, 1+2 =
2, 1+4 = 4, and so forth all the way up to 1+10= 9. It was
nonsense.
“Now I expect you to all be able to recite the first table
before coffee,” Mrs. Carrington announced lifting up a paddle.
“I have a special treat for those refuse to learn it!”
I squirmed on my already sore bum and immediately became
determined to learn this senseless table.
Mrs. Carrington then had us recite the table together as if we
were little girls in school. I was sure that after a few more
lessons here I would have no sense of dignity at all.
After the reciting the figures were locked into my head. We each
had to stand next to our desks whilst Mrs. Carrington rolled up
the tables and prowled around behind us asking us questions.
“Tracy, 1 plus 4?”
Tracy gasped in fear “er, uhm,” and then squealed at the sound
of the paddle against her little skirt. “oh uhm, er 2?”
Another slap. “4 girl. In maid’s maths 4 plus 1 always equals
4!”
“Yes Mrs. Carrington.”
Now she was behind me. My mind went blank. I felt sure I would
get a whack.
“Debbie, 3 plus 1?”
I could not think of anything. Whack. “Ouch!” Even through the
skirt and panties it stung.
“The answer is 2 dear. 3 plus 1 equals 2 for maids.”
“Yes Mrs. Carrington.”
By coffee we were remarkably able to recite this nonsense
automatically. I wondered if I would ever be able to add up
again.
“Good girls. Another excellent lesson.”
I felt foolishly pleased with myself and even bobbed a thank you
with the other girls.
“Now you must never forget your maids maths tables. We will do
larger numbers after coffee. Tomorrow we will tackle the maid’s
multiplication table. It is imperative that maids and
secretaries are stupid air heads. That will make your owners
feel better about themselves. A pleased master or mistress is
less likely to be an angry master or mistress.”
That made sense. I nodded to her and she smiled sweetly back to
me. I felt so good when someone smiled at me. It meant I was not
going to be humiliated or beaten. From no on I would always try
to please anyone I could. Or at least until I was released from
this crazy world.
So the morning continued with me dancing for the teacher through
coffee and then moving onto larger sums like 6+8, which
apparently now equals 13. This is easy to remember because 6+6
also equals 13. I was in an upside down world.
In fact I was feeling quite pleased with myself that at the end
of the lesson. My bottom was sore, but it could have been worse,
one of the girls was sitting with tears streaming down her face.
I now had a good knowledge of maids maths. So pleased with
myself was I that I dared to put up my hand.
“You can wee after lunch Debbie,” Mrs. Carrington offered as if
doing me a favour.
I shook my head. No, she did not understand I wanted to ask her
about the point.
She studied me hard, “I think I can guess what you want to know.
You have been here long enough.” She addressed the class. “By
now girls you will have heard some of the adults mentions ‘the
point’ to you.”
We nodded eagerly, “Yes Mrs. Carrington.”
She invited any girls who wanted to know more to stay behind
after school before dismissing the rest of the class. I noticed
that the more experienced girls got up and left, they obviously
knew all about it. Sharon shrugged and also left. Had she not
heard anyone mention it?
Only myself, Shelly and Tracy remained in our seats
Once the door closed Mrs. Carrington composed herself and sat in
her seat behind her desk at the front of the class. She was
composing what she was about to say. Obviously this was really
important stuff. I felt quite honoured.
“Now girls I have been the teacher here for over two years and
I never find it easy to tell the girls this. In a place like
this some experiences are obviously better than others, yes?
Girls always love the wardrobe Room. And being ordered around is
usually a thrill.”
She looked out of the window across the woodlands. We girls held
our breaths intent on every word she spoke.
“As you know you are not allowed access to yourselves down
below. You therefore cannot have orgasms any more. However any
member of staff or guest, indeed any adult granted a key can
give you satisfaction if they choose to do so.”
Get on with it, I thought, I already knew this.
“However they are only allowed to do so once you have passed the
Point.”
You could have heard a pin drop in that classroom.
“You all arrived here with a woman who is now enjoying what the
hotel has to offer. That woman would by now have a partner and
it is that partner to whom you should write your letter.”
A letter? To Linda’s partner? Paulo. Why would I want to write
to him? Except to tell him what I really thought of him. Stupid,
big Italian, sod! After his cruelty in the bar room I could not
wait for an opportunity to tell him words he would rather not
hear! Perhaps that would be my first aim once I had been freed.
“On that letter,” Mrs. Carrington continued, “you will ask him
to take you to the point. This is where,” her eyes wandered to
the pale blue sky, “he will release you ”
I gasped and I felt Shelly next to me wriggle with delight.
Release at last!
” and then masturbate you in front of the woman you brought
here.”
What! I felt a cold steely breeze pass over my entire body.
Tracy groaned. Shelly shook.
“I know it sound difficult girls. But once you have done it,
then you are available to all the other adults here. Just think
of that. You will be able to get sexual relief,” her eyes
narrowed as she glared at us, “so long as you are well behaved
of course. Naughty girls do not get relief. Naughty girls sit
alone in their rooms while their friends are out having fun.
Naughty girls have sore bottoms and have nothing to do except
feel sorry for themselves.”
Naughty girls! I was furious. Humiliation after humiliation. If
they thought I was going to write a letter to that arrogant,
horrible, callous beast who was seducing, maybe even had seduced
my wife, they had another thing coming!
So any girls ready to write the letter?,” Mrs. Carrington asked
softly.
Of course we would not! I looked at Shelly who was in shock and
then at Tracy whose hand was over her mouth. Exactly. No one
would do such a thing!
Then Shelly blushed red and even bright pink as she raised her
hand in her crisp white school girl blouse. She looked so sorry
for herself.
What a slut I thought.
“Brave girl Shelly!” Mrs. Carrington announced. “You others go
and I will work out a letter with brave little Shelly here. Just
think Shelly by tonight you will experience your first girlish
orgasm!”
Tracy and I left the cheap little tart to her demeaning letter.
Once we were out in the corridor Tracy whispered, “what a
tramp!”
“Exactly,” I said. “There is no way that big ape is going to do
such a thing to me in front of my wife!”
Tracy reddened, “it’s awful my girl friend saw me outside the
ladies toilets with my hand up waiting for permission to have a
wee. And do you know what she did?” she asked with horrified
tones.
“No,” I dreaded to hear. Women seemed so wantonly cruel in The
Hotel. So unlike the real world.
“She laughed at me!”
How awful!
Tracy stopped next to me. “I was bursting for a pee and I
thought that of all the adults here she would give me
permission.”
“It’s the same with Linda. My wife!” I confided, comforted to be
able to talk to someone about it, “she is cavorting with some
idiotic looking Italian without a care about me!”
“I am sure my girl friend is spending too much time with her
man,” Tracy said quietly.
Neither of us wanted to be overheard by an adult saying such
things.
“And my wife! And I am sure he is trying to seduce her.”
Tracy looked sadly away and walked towards the canteen her
bottom wriggling and her hands stuck out at right angles.
I followed determined not to degrade myself any more. But then
I feared a camera might catch me so I stuck my palms outwards,
wriggled my hips and pursed my lips. When would my ordeal be
over?
2. More Training
Having changed back into the maid’s uniform we were taken
upstairs to learn about tidying rooms.
Miss Leopard led us to the third floor where maids were dashing
about from room to room with the briefest of bobs as they passed
Miss Leopard.
“Speed is of the essence girls. You are in and then you are out.
Messy room turns to wonderful, spotless, neat room. It takes ten
minutes to do a room. If it takes longer I will deal with you!”
I hated these threats. They frightened me terribly. Mister
Deacon could not protect me if he was not here.
“There are three trolleys on each floor,” she continued briskly,
“Each has clean sheets, towels and linen. They have coffee,
biscuits and drinks. Soaps and everything else you need. Each
room will have a card on its door handle say whether they want
the room cleaned or not. If there are any guests in the room
when you are cleaning, you make sure you do not bother them. Or
else. Maids are seen but not heard, unless I am spanking them.
Any complaints and I will deal with you!”
She was so harsh with us that I felt my knees wobble. I was
determined to be a good maid and not have Miss Leopard ‘deal
with me’.
She showed us how to make the beds and where everything in the
room went. We were then partnered with an experienced maid and
left to our own devices.
My experienced maid was Pamela who was taken to rub her bottom
all the time.
When we were in the bathroom taking out the dirty towels, she
confided with me in a very soft, sotto voice in case we were
over heard.
“Miss Leopard canned me this morning.”
“Oh”, I said sympathetically. “She is a dreadful bully.”
Pamela nodded, “all I did was forget to replace the shampoo and
shower gel in one of the rooms.”
I shook my head. Miss Leopard went further down in my
estimation. What a petty thing to cane a maid over.
“So watch out,” Pamela warned, she is in a bad mood today!”
I was about to reply that I was very careful with all the adults
when a fierce male voice bellowed: “Hurry up in there!”
We opened the door and a young man stood outside still in his
squash kit. “I need to shower!”
“Yes sir, sorry sir,” we curtsied rushing out with the dirty
towels.
A lovely looking middle aged woman, wearing a short white dress
for a squash kit, arrived. She was obviously intent on looking
sexy rather than sporting.
I dumped the dirty towels into the trolley and grabbed some
fresh white ones.
When I returned the woman was lying flat on the bed as if
exhausted. “Fetch me a glass of white wine from the fridge
maid.”
“Yes Miss”, I bobbed neatly putting the towels in the bathroom
where the young man was stripping for his shower.
“This is heaven!” The woman shouted to her boy friend.
I opened the fridge and poured a white wine for the woman who
was now lying with her eyes closed and rubbing her thighs
together. Did she not realise I was still in the room!
Then it dawned on me that maids do not count! Humph.
I brought her her glass.
“I haven’t orgasmed so much since I was a teenager,” she
giggled.
The young man re-emerged. “We are trained to please,” he laughed
collapsing nude on to the bed next to her, “no disappointments
with us.”
I curtsied, anxious to be on my way.
She put her arms around his neck, “and you are so big! You
wonderful man you!”
I closed the door and tutted as I heard her gasping towards yet
another orgasm. I could see what they would be doing all day in
their room!
Then I heard Linda’s voice from earlier this morning in Miss
Steel’s office. How she was returning to her room with Paulo.
How embarrassed she was at me hearing this. I pictured her lying
on her bed with that dreadful Paulo all over her. Would she be
cooing up to him like that silly woman in the last room?
Surely not. She would not look at another man. She had told me.
Often!
I pushed the trolley down to the next open door.
Pamela shot out with a half eaten tray of that mornings
breakfast.
“Finished?” She indicated the previous room and when I nodded
she picked up a notepad attached to the trolley. You tick the
room number.”
I watched as she ticked ‘room 301, Miss Newman.’
I nodded and then followed her into the next room. The corridor
was full of maids busying themselves with their chores.
In the space of little more than an hour we had completed two
floors and my feet were killing me. How I longed to have my
heels removed even for a meagre ten luxurious minutes.
We gossiped when ever we were certain it was safe to do so.
Pamela was going out with a woman tonight who liked male maids.
In the sanctity of the rooms she would confide with me how in
love they were. “She is going to buy me very soon and then I
will live in a lovely house in Dorset and cook and clean just
for her.”
I almost laughed out loud at how excited she was at the prospect
of remaining a slave for the rest of her life. Indeed she
expected me to be pleased for her as if spending the rest of my
days as a male maid was the height of any girl’s aspirations. I
mean any boy’s aspirations. Well I am sure you know what I mean.
Sometimes I felt so confused.
I wondered if Mister Deacon would be inviting me out tonight. He
had said that he would see me again. On the other hand I had
made such a fool of myself the night he was kind enough to give
me a date that I feared he would never want to see me again. I
thought about the wonderful wardrobe room, like a huge
department store full of the most adorable clothes. Sexy
lingerie, gorgeous dresses, erotic high heels. My prick grew and
felt its unrelenting confines. I would give anything to spend
more time in that wonderful room.
How I hated this place and what it was doing to me.
If I was not careful I would end up like silly air head Pamela
desperate for an adult to buy me.
We were on floor five and I was beginning to realise just how
huge the Hotel was and how many guests it held.
And everyone seemed to be having a good time apart from us
maids. Though I did notice that many of the maids were bizarrely
happy. As scared as they were when Miss Leopard was around they
all seemed contented enough as they carried out their chores.
Couples cavorted quite openly about us. No doubt the wives and
girl friends of some of the maids here. And we could not do
anything about it!
I felt waves of anger building up in me. The painful heels, the
constant bullying, all the relentless, silly chores. The silly
girls like Pamela and Shelly who accepted it all. But worst of
all was the thought of submitting myself to that horrible,
Italian man if I wanted an orgasm.
I did not fully notice the name at first. It was another room
and another adult. Room 612 Miss Johnson.
I ticked it as we finished and then it dawned on me that my wife
was using her maiden name in that room. I walked back into it
and looked about me.
I opened the wardrobe and sure enough there were her clothes.
Next to the double bed was her cuddly elephant she always kept.
Double bed!
Double bed with Paulo sleeping with her.
I was livid. She could sleep with whom so ever she wished, (the
whore!) and I could not even play with myself!
Afternoon break
In the canteen everyone was quiet. We were all too exhausted to
chatter.
I sat nibbling at my tuna sandwich and carrot and I was fuming!
I was livid. My wife was probably settling down to a real tuna
steak and a bottle of cold Chablis.
Shelly sat with us but did not dare raise her eyes to mine. I
was not surprised. Fancy having to write to her wife’s lover to
ask him to wank her, er… wank him.
Tracy looked even more down beat and also avoided my eyes. She
was obviously feeling the pressure as much as me.
When we had finished eating Shelly turned to Tracy and
whispered, “have you sent your letter?”
Tracy nodded, glanced at me and then shamefacedly looked away.
I could not believe it. Tracy had succumbed. She had also
written a letter to her wife’s lover. Two sluts!
I had an hour to kill before I was to report to the bar on the
second floor to help with waitressing. I wandered back to our
own room feeling lonely and angry.
I checked my rosta on the clip board and saw that Mister Deacon
had not asked for me this evening. I slumped on to the bed
kicking my high heeled feet petulantly.
When I got Linda back home I would show her who wore the
trousers! Suddenly I had to confront her. I had to teach her
what was what. Tell her how dreadful this was for me and the
other maids. Ask her, plead with her perhaps, to get us both out
of this. She had the power and control to do it. Perhaps she did
not realise that it was all up to her now that I had no say I
the matter at all.
Before I knew what was happening I found myself getting out of
the lift on the sixth floor.
A woman came out of the room near me making me jump. I quickly
curtsied but fortunately she just ignored me. Maids are just
another piece of furniture in the Hotel.
I was angry with Linda but also wary of being caught up here.
Room 612 sat on a bend in the corridor near some tall plants.
I tried to summon up the courage to knock but could not. I could
not even bring myself to knock on my own wife’s door!
It was so frustrating. I turned on my heels and walked back to
the lift when a door burst open behind me.
I held my breath and slowed down my wriggling walk, ensuring
that palms were outright and lips pursed.
I heard Paulo.
“I’ll see you in the bar”. The door closed.
Next thing I know I felt a hand under my skirt and my bottom
being painfully pinched. I squealed and leaped up.
“Out of the way slut,” he demanded as he reached the lift and
without paying me any further attention closed the door. The
lift vanished.
That was it. Linda was there all alone. This could be my only
chance. I walked slowly back to the door.
My heart was thumping like a steam piston.
I tapped the door. Too quietly to be heard. What a coward I was
turning into. I tapped slightly louder.
The door opened revealing Linda in a towelling robe.
I was breathless with fear. Suppose I was caught. Surely she
would not tell anyone.
I curtsied. “Miss Johnson,” I whispered looking at the plush
carpet around her bare feet.
“Yes?”
I could not look at her.
“Yes girl?”
My eyes rolled up to meet hers and she saw my name badge.
“Debbie!” She squealed delightedly, “come in.”
I bobbed and entered, “thank you Miss Johnson.”
With the door closed she beamed a huge smile, “just let me look
at you.”
She held both my hands as I blushed awkwardly before her.
“Don’t you look smart. All your dreams come true!”
I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t my dream to be used like
this. But I could not. I was so unused to talking to adults when
I was a maid that my tongue sat still in mouth. Even with Mister
Deacon, on my date the previous evening, I had been very
subservient despite having permission to talk.
“Please Miss Johnson ” I stammered.
She sat on the bed, her lovely legs crossed under her short
white towelling gown. “What is it Debbie?”
“Please Miss ”
She was getting impatient. “Spit it out girl!”
Girl! “Look,” I found myself saying, “I am not a girl. And I am
not a silly little airhead who can’t add up!”
She stared at me quizzically as if I were a madman. Of course
she would mot have known about the senseless sums that morning.
I ploughed on:
“Nor am I a little slut available for anyone’s pleasure, with me
having to be grateful for it!
Her mouth dropped open in shock, “Debbie ”
But it was too late. I had opened a well of anger and
frustration. For the first time since we had arrived I was
speaking my mind. “I am not Debbie, I am .whatever”
I saw her smile at this and that made me dead mad.
“And as for you shagging that apology for a man! I only leave
you for a couple of nights and you are on your back beneath the
first man that throws himself at you. No the first man you throw
yourself at! You are a cheap whore. A sad tart. A real slut! I’m
not the slut1 You are! Sucking his huge cock, spreading your
legs ”
Her cheeks reddened and she pursed her lips in the way that she
does when she is incensed. “Have you finished little Debbie?”
she spat emphasising the words ‘little Debbie’.
“Oh!” I realised what I had said, what I had done. If Miss
Leopard or Miss Jaguar found out I would be beaten senseless. Oh
God suppose Linda told Miss Steel. “Uhm, er, Miss Johnson ” I
tried softly.
The red in her cheeks grew into two angry spots. I had never
seen her so wound up. Why had I not kept my mouth shut!
“Little tramp aren’t you! Bursting in here wasting my time with
what your silly little head thinks. I thought maids had to be
invited to rooms!”
I curtsied sharply, “yes Miss Johnson, sorry Miss Johnson.”
She lifted the phone.
Oh God! I threw myself on my knees before her. “Please Miss
Johnson, I am sorry, so sorry. Oh Please Miss Johnson.”
She tapped out a number. “Hello? Miss Johnson here,” she snapped
looking at me as she gave her maiden name, “is Paulo there
please? Good.”
She waited and I held my breath. What was she going to say?
“Hi. Its me, yes. Could you comeback up here a sec? Just a
little difficulty with the staff.”
She dropped the phone and I clenched my hands before my boobs.
“Please Miss Johnson.” I did not use any words I was not
supposed to say. I was desperate to placate her.
She rose and walked over to the window. “You are a silly little
airhead. For your information Paulo has been very sweet to me.
We haven’t…” she flushed searching for the words but waved her
hand at the bed to indicate what she meant.
Oh. I felt so relieved.
“But you thought I had. You even thought that I had sucked his ”
she hated using vulgar words.
“I’m sorry Miss Johnson ..I er …” I wondered whether I should
use words I was not allowed.
“You horrible little maid you.”
I hung my head in shame at thinking the worst of my adorable
wife.
“But as you already think I have then perhaps I will.”
I stood up, “please Miss Johnson no ”
“But if I were you I would worry about Paulo. As you have seen
he has a terrible temper. What is he going to think if he sees
you here?”
I put my hands to my mouth. “Please Miss Johnson ” was all I
could say.
“I want him to spank you. I want to teach you a lesson for being
so suspicious and untrusting. If you submit to it then fine. You
will be dismissed to do whatever silly air headed maids like you
do and then I will let Paulo have his way with me. Just to teach
you a lesson. You thought it had already happened so it won’t
hurt you.”
“Oh no, Please Miss Johnson no.”
She approached me and angrily took hold my chin. Why had I
doubted her? “And just think you have asked for a month of this.
You little pervert!”
The door burst open and my worst nightmare was in the room.
The door closed behind him.
“A problem?”
Linda sneered at me. I had never seen her like this before. “No
not really. Little Debbie has come up to apologise for that
silly scene she caused in the bar.”
Paulo rounded on me wagging his finger as if I were a naughty
school girl. I felt my eyes fill with tears.
“You little tramp. You almost ruined our night!”
Linda took hold of him around the waist and rested her head on
his shoulder in a move that clearly surprised him. He took hold
of her and she pushed her body into his, raised her lips to him
and closed her eyes. He was taken aback at her move and suddenly
I realised that all she had said had been true.
I had suspected the worst. I had not trusted her and now she was
punishing me. I could tell that she had not been close to him
before. That up until now she had resisted him.
He kissed her lightly and then she collapsed as if her body were
a deck of cards. He kissed her passionately. My wife!
I looked on helplessly. Please stop I was thinking.
When he finally came up for her air he looked at me and spat:
“dismissed.”
I curtsied and sped to the door my mind in a whirl.
“Just a second,” said a hoarse Linda.
I stopped, turned and bobbed a yes Miss Johnson.
Linda was still irate with me for my evil thoughts. “I said she
had come to apologise and I think she should be punished.”
Oh no.
Paulo laughed. “What would you like me to do to her?”
“A simple spanking,” she said and plonked herself down into a
deep armchair letting the robe ride up her thighs and fall open
near her pussy. She would never do something that outrageous
before we came to The Hotel.
His hand gripped my arm and painfully dragged me to the edge of
the bed. I waited for Linda to say stop. To say that I had been
punished enough.
“Please Miss Johnson ” I said
Her eyes were cold. She wanted me to pay for what I had said to
her.
Paulo sat on the bed and tugged my arm. I knew what was expected
of me, just like any of the maids in the hotel would know.
I fell over his lap.
I was so humiliated.
He lifted up my skirt and tugged at the tight black panties,
pulling them down. “How many?”
Linda smirked down at me. “We are only allowed six aren’t we?”
“Six for each offence then they get reported to a supervisor.
Usually they agree to a further six rather than face a one of
the managers here.”
Linda giggled an curled her bare legs up beneath her. “Two lots
of six. How many would that be maid?”
6 plus 6? The answer flooded my mind before I could think.
“Thirteen Miss Johnson.”
Paulo and Linda laughed uproariously at my stupidity. But for
the life of me the real answer would not come to me. I tried to
work it out by asking myself what 3 plus 3 was but the answer of
5 did not seem right either. I shook my fists.
“Was she always as stupid as this?” Paulo laughed.
“She could be,” Linda replied giggling.
“So how many for a particularly stupid maid?” Paulo asked.
“Just six on this occasion,” Linda said, relenting a little.
I covered my face. My bottom exposed for my wife and her suitor
to see.
The six spanks would have been painful even had my bum not been
permanently sore.
I squealed like a little girl. Pleading and begging. He was much
stronger than I and held me easily over his lap as if I were a
child. He spanked me easily until I had received the full six.
He stood up quickly so that I rolled onto the carpet at their
feet crying.
“Stand up,” barked Paulo.
I did so my bum on fire.
Linda stood proudly next to Paulo. “I trust you have leaned your
lesson Little Debbie?”
“Oh yes Miss Johnson,” I curtsied as much as I could with my
knickers around my thighs. One thing I had learned was not pull
up my panties until I was instructed to do so.
“Good, in that case,” she hugged Paulo, “you may leave us now.”
I curtsied, “yes Miss Johnson, thank you miss Johnson.”
“And Debbie?” Paulo said as I headed eagerly for the door and
safety.
“Yes sir?”
“Don’t pull up your knickers until you reach your own room.”
“Yes sir,” I curtsied.
“Oh no,” Linda said. “I think she has been punished enough. No
point in humiliating her in front of the entire hotel.”
Paulo gripped her tightly making her gasp with pleasure. “I am
taking charge of matters now my darling.”
She put her hands on his shoulders, her robe falling open as he
hugged her. Her eyes were fixed hypnotically on his.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly.
“Perhaps I will ban you from wearing kickers when we go down to
dinner tonight!”
She stared up at him in delighted shock, her mouth hanging open,
her voice barely a whisper. “No one’s ever mastered me like that
before!”
He was about to kiss her when he noticed me. “Still here slut.
Off you wiggle. It will be a long journey with your knickers
around you thighs!”
I heard a muffled laugh from Linda as she buried her head in his
chest.
I watched in horror as her robe fell around her bare feet.
She, my wife, was naked in the arms of a hunk who had spanked me
and had now sent me back down to room with my knickers on
display beneath my skirt.
I left as quickly as I could.
I slammed the door shut and fell against it crying from pain,
humiliation and frustration. I was so helpless. Everything I did
got me into deeper trouble. Perhaps I really was an air head.
Perhaps I was someone who needed another person to tell me what
to do and what to think.
I moved away from the door and my panties slipped all the way
down to my ankles.
Oh no. He had specifically told me not to pull them up. But did
that mean that I could not pull them back to my thighs? I so
desperately wanted to pull them up. Would he ever find out? If
he did I knew I would be in for a session with Miss Leopard or
Miss Jaguar.
I wriggled daintily to the lift, my tight little knickers
allowing very little movement. I dare not take them off, I dared
not even touch them.
The lift was deserted thank god. But my luck was out, it stopped
at the very next floor when a group of women got in. They took
one look at me with my panties around my stockinged ankles and
let out shrieks of laughter.
“Saves time doesn’t little maid,” one said. “save you having to
keep pulling them up and down as you go from man to man.”
Oh the bitches!
“Yes Miss,” I said bobbing a curtsey.
They got out at the ground floor and for a brief moment before
the door closed everyone in the lobby could see me. I closed my
eyes shutting out the cruel world.
When I reached the sanctuary of my room I hauled up my knickers
and threw myself tearfully on the bed.
I had ruined everything. Everything. Now I was stuck like this
for a month, while my wife was upstairs with the man who had
spanked me.
All because of my silly mouth.
“What on earth is wrong?”
Cherie appeared from the bathroom. I had not realised anyone was
here.
I looked up at her through my tears. “I’ve been spanked by my
wife’s boyfriend!” I blubbered. Boyfriend! My wife’s boyfriend!
Had I really said that?
“Silly tart,” Cherie admonished me with a smile, “you haven’t
got a wife. What you have got is a date!”
I sat up on my sore bottom as Cherie handed me the clipboard.
Next to my name was Mister deacon and guest at seven thirty
outside the wardrobe room.
Mister Deacon! My heart lifted. Wow. He did want to see me
again.
“See,” Cherie, said gayly, “things aren’t so bad — are they?”
“No,” I stammered, “no.” Mister Deacon and guest. And guest. Who
could that be?
“And just as a silly little tramp can’t think things can get any
better look,” Cherie pointed to my bedside table.
I followed her finger.
A vase of red roses!
I crawled across my bed to the flowers and saw a tiny note. It
read, “with love and wishes, Mistress Shania.” The cool Mistress
who had been ordering maids from Miss Steel for her party!
“Oh.”
“Things are looking up!” Cherie announced. “A man and a mistress
all chasing your tail.”
I did feel rather flattered.
I was still rereading the note when the door thumped open and
Miss Jaguar flew in. I saw her and leaped from the bed.
Immediately I felt guilty about all the naughty things I had
been up to since I had last seen her.
“You two have dates tonight,” she glared warningly at me, “and
I am pleased that you are still a virgin. You make sure you let
me know when you have passed ‘the point’! I make short work of
virgins.”
Never, I thought to myself. Never would I pass the point and
never would I tell her. Though she looked quite god like in a
tight leather trouser suit. She had a wonderful figure, curvy
but firm.
She walked past me knocking me out of the way like a playground
thug. “And what is this?”
She lifted up my vase of roses as if they were contaminated. “Is
he sending you flowers?”
“No, Miss Jaguar,” I curtsied truthfully. ‘He’ was not sending
me flowers.
She saw the note. She went from being impatient to being ‘gale
force seven’ angry. “The crafty bitch!”
She turned on my thumping the flowers back onto the table. I
jumped in fear.
“You are a tramp aren’t you!”
“Yes Miss Jaguar,” I knew what to answer. I felt Cherie making
herself as small as possible behind me.
“Flowers eh! So you want flowers!”
With that she stormed out of our room slamming the door shut.
After a moment of safety to make sure that she was not going to
return Cherie and myself collapsed onto the bed giggling with
relief.
“Oh you like flowers do you!” mimicked Cherie in a funny voice.
Our giggling was cut short by the door opened again and Miss
Jaguar was soon standing in the middle of the room surreally
holding a huge bouquet of flowers. I bet she had not held
flowers in her hands since the day she was born.
“Here slut. There’s more here than she gave you — isn’t there?”
I took them and bobbed a ‘thank you, yes Miss Jaguar’.
Looking absurdly pleased with herself she turned and left the
room.
I looked at my bouquet then at Cherie and we both giggled.
Being a maid was not all bad. Especially if you are popular like
I.
WARDROBE
Indeed Cherie and myself were at the wardrobe room an hour early
in order to get prepared for our dates.
Miss Tiger was her usual stuffy self. Name, instructions and all
that. But I did not mind. Being here was being in heaven. If my
wife was going to be made love to by that hunk then I would
enjoy dressing up in here amongst all these adorable clothes.
Cherie was asked to wear a hot pants suit, something which made
her gasp and giggle. I waited impatiently for my directions. I
wondered whether it would be a long evening dress or a split
dress like stars in the magazines wear.
“Short white dress, black high heeled boots,” Miss Tiger
snorted. “Not exactly blessed with imagination this lover of
yours! That’s what you had last time.”
He most certainly was not my lover! “Yes Miss Tiger,” I bobbed.
“Only this time its is boots up to the knee.”
“Yes Miss Tiger,” I squealed as I dashed with Cherie into the
clothing racks with the other maids.
Miss Tiger shouted after us: “and black underwear for both of
you sluts!”
“Yes Miss Tiger,” we shouted back giggling.
I found the white dress I had worn before. It was as crisp and
new as when I had first worn it. We helped each other dress and
suddenly Cherie stopped giggling, “look,” she whispered.
I looked up and there was Shelly wearing a ballerina’s tutu,
with the ruffled skirts sticking out at 90 degrees to her waist.
She wore white tights and a white decoration in her hair.
She saw us and approached self consciously. Her name tag sat
just below her low white top.
She was a ballerina I everything but footwear. There she wore
white high heeled sandals.
“Hi,” we said, neither of us wanting to comment upon how
ridiculous she looked.
“Hi Debbie, Cherie,” she said glumly trying a brave smile. “I am
experiencing ‘the point’ tonight and this is how they want me.”
“oh,” I said trying not to sound too shocked.
“You look very sexy,” Cherie said sisterly.
“Thanks,” said an unconvinced Shelly, “its my fault really.
Trouble is I insisted on my wife going to ballet lessons long
after she had got bored with them. When I told her one day it
wasn’t because of the way she danced but because I thought she
looked dead sexy dressed as one, she became really cross with
me.” She tickled the protruding hem of the tutu. I guess she
hadn’t forgotten.”
Cherie and I bit our pink lipsticked lips to stop ourselves from
giggling at her plight.
“Still,” Cherie said, “you do look adorable.”
She was not convinced.
“Well”, I tried, “if she looked sexy in it imagine how you look
in it!”
That seemed to cheer her up and she stood in front of one of the
mirrors twisting around and ogling herself. “Do you think so?”
We both nodded pleased that we had cheered her up.
She had brightened up at the thought but then her face fell sad
again. “Mind you it’s a shame about pour Tracy though.”
“Oh?” Cherie and I said together just as Tracy appeared through
the lines of clothes.
I am afraid that I giggled out loud and Cherie had to put her
hand over her mouth.
“You look very .” I tried to find the right words through my
laughter.
“Ok, ok,” Tracy said dismissively.
Cherie had to look away to stop herself from laughing but I was
desperate to see how Tracy looked from the back.
I had never seen a bunny girl in real life before. With a pink
suit, collar, cuffs, bunny ears and a small neat bushy tail.
Her fishnet tights rode all the way down to a pair of white high
heels, locked, of course around her ankles.
“You two will have to go through it when you’re brave enough to
face ‘the Point’,” Tracy pouted.
“Not me,” I announced superiorly.
Cherie touched her arm confidentially, “I have already done it.
Her boyfriend had me in a lap dancers tiny bra and g string!”
They all laughed at this though I could not see what was funny.
Rather a knot had tied itself in my tummy. Suddenly I realised
that all the girls had been through this. And try as I might I
always ended up doing exactly the same as all the other maids.
We were a team of Barbies who were controlled and manipulated by
determined, hard dominatrixes who were sending us down exactly
the same paths.
Sooner or later, I realised, I would be standing here in some
ridiculous outfit waiting to humiliated by my wife’s lover.
A lover I had forced on my wife with my silliness.
An idle comforting thought hit me. Perhaps they had not make
love this afternoon. Perhaps Linda would understand that I had
been punished enough with my spanking, followed by my ordeal of
parading through the hotel with my panties around my ankles.
While Shelly admired her tutu, now convinced that she looked
sexy and Tracy plucked her ears so that they stayed upright, I
pulled on my lovely white sleeveless dress and knee length
boots.
I changed my knickers for a new pair of black lacy ones hanging
in the lingerie department.
I am afraid to say that feeling very pleased with myself I went
back to the other girls. There I ogled my sexy reflection
knowing that the bunny girl and ballet dancer would be even more
humiliated by the more conventional dress I was allowed to wear.
My feeling of supremacy was short lived as my prick grew
uncomfortably large in its steel confines. With a shock I
realised that in an hour or so Shelly and Tracy would be
released and allowed to orgasm. Thereafter, any guest they
pleased could make them cum.
I looked at the bunny outfit and the ballet girl and suddenly
the momentary shame of a few hours humiliation seemed a cheap
price to pay for such a reward.
I was sure Mister Deacon would help me cum and if not he,
definitely Miss Jaguar, (if I could trust her!), and then of
course there was mistress Shania. She seemed very nice.
As it happens Cherie hated her hot pants suit. Its one piece
nature pulled it tight between her legs making her very
uncomfortable. Though she did look very sexy in it, with lots of
thigh on display and a neat bottom at the back.
My penis responded yet again. I looked away and tried to think
of something unerotic but dressed as I was, in the room full of
girls clothes next to these sexily dressed tramps my penis
carried on painfully growing in its confines until it pinched
itself.
——–
I met Mister Deacon outside the wardrobe room at eight in
amongst the crowd of girls and their dates. I just saw Tracy and
Shelly being taken away by two laughing women and their
boyfriends. It was a while before Tracy’s pink ears disappeared
into the lift.
Mister Deacon was very excited. “You look stunning!”
“Thank you kind sir,” I giggled and bobbed to him. I knew he
would like how I was dressed but it was nice to hear it.
He took hold of my hand and led me to the lift. “There’s someone
I want you to meet.”
Oh God his guest! Would that be another hunk like him? Or some
horrible greasy fat bloke? Or was it his friend from that first
night?
I watched Cherie going off in her hot pants suit with a middle
aged woman who was all over her. Cherie obviously loved having
her bottom played with.
We reached the restaurant and I looked about the bar for my wife
and Paulo.
Had they made love that afternoon? There was no sign of them. At
first I felt relieved. They must have had a row. She will come
and get me now.
Then a dreadful notion haunted me: they were still in bed
together!
I thought of that woman in the squash outfit lying on the bed
desperate for her young lover and what she had said about him
being so big and him saying that they were trained to be good.
My inward tortures were broken by Mister Deacon gripping my bare
arm. He could be quite rough at times. I would have a word with
him about that one day. He hauled me to some sofas near
reception.
There was a group of men standing around drinking. I wondered
which one was his guest.
“Debbie I would like you to meet someone.”
A woman in her late twenties rose from a sofa holding a glass of
wine. She was dark blond and wore a short, black evening dress.
She looked me up and down suspiciously, even coldly.
“You must be Debbie,” she said off handedly, as if she would
rather be anywhere other than here.
“Debbie, this is my wife, Mrs. Deacon, and I know you two are
going to really get along!” Mister Deacon enthused.
I looked at the blond who eyed my sexy clothing. I knew she felt
the same as I. We most certainly were not going to get along at
all!