Late Three
By Systematic
It was around nine or ten when the maid barged in. It wasn’t the maid I’d been expecting, and it really wasn’t how I wanted to start the day.
“I’m back,” she said, standing in my doorway, hands on her hips, grinning. Or I assumed that was what she was doing. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet.
“Yes,” I said. “You are.” Was I decent? I was, more or less. The sheets were twisted, but I could feel that they were covering me from the waist down. That was something. “Thanks.” I waved a hand, eyes still closed.
“Don’t be so cold,” she said, sounding huffy. “It’s been a whole month.”
Yes, and hadn’t that month gone by quickly? I opened my eyes and sat up. I call her Red, even though there’s nothing red on her. Her maid uniform is very dark blue, and her hair is black and short. I think of her as Red because she gets on my nerves, and I once literally saw red when her pestering got to a boiling point. She only comes up to about my shoulder, but she makes enough noise for someone much bigger.
“Is Sandy up yet?”
“He’s already gone.”
“What?” That annoyed me. We never had gotten around to those video games that had been the point of this sleepover. I looked at the clock and scowled.
“So did you miss me?”
I glared at her. She left and closed the door behind her, but she’d be back. I’d messed up. I’d really messed up. I got out of bed, took a shower, and got dressed. Then I sent Sandy a text that we still had games to play. Then I sent him another one to clarify that I meant video games.
I had a little time on my hands, so I sat down at my desk to see how I was doing against Celestial Eros Oracle. I took the time to skim the story she’d posted the night before, grudgingly gave it a good rating, and thought about how I was going to beat her decisively. I was still in the lead, but it wasn’t a convincing lead. I had to do better.
The door opened and Red came back in with my breakfast on a tray. She put it down, but didn’t leave. I didn’t acknowledge her, I just let her hover there over my shoulder as I checked email and read news. She cleared her throat a couple of times. I took a bite of eggs and ignored her.
“I masturbated yesterday,” she said. I choked, and she pounded me on the back.
“Did you?” I said, gasping. I took a drink of coffee. I didn’t want to be angry in the morning. It couldn’t be healthy to get annoyed before noon.
“Don’t you want to know more? Aren’t you curious?”
“Not really.”
“I was thinking about you.”
“That’s flattering.”
“I’m serious. And I did it on the airplane.”
That got my attention. I turned to look at her. “Now you’re talking. Really?”
She nodded, smiling, and trying not to blush. I was conflicted. “All right,” I said at last, and picked up my notepad. “Tell me about it.”
Looking triumphant, she pulled over a chair and sat down, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. I clicked my pen and politely waited.
“What do you want to know?”
“What happened? Was it in the bathroom, or in your seat?”
“Seat,” she said, quietly, as though there were maids outside the door listening. Which wasn’t out of the question. I picked up my remote and turned on the stereo.
“From the beginning,” I said.
She squirmed a little, twisting some of the ruffles on her uniform. “I got to remembering, and thinking about how I’d be back soon. And I wanted to.”
“Were you sitting next to someone?”
“Of course.”
“You used a blanket, didn’t you?”
“Of course!”
I’d have to cut that from the story; that took all the fun out of it. “Okay, tell me exactly what you did. What were you wearing?”
“You know, just a cute shirt. It had a sunflower on it.”
“Below the waist,” I said, silently praying for patience.
“Oh.” She squirmed some more.
“You just told me you masturbated thinking about me, now you don’t want to say what you were wearing?”
“Capris,” she said suddenly. “I was wearing capris.”
“Better if it was a skirt,” I said, making a note. I’d make it a skirt in the story. “So how did you do it? Did you open them, or just slip your hand down?”
She shook her head, hesitated, then told me. “I put my hand between my legs, and squeezed them together really hard.” She made a fist. I got the idea. “And sort of real carefully humped it.”
“Under the blanket.”
“Yes.”
Boring. “Did you finish?”
She nodded, very red now.
“Any good?”
I watched her squirm some more. “Yeah,” she said finally, looking embarrassed.
“Thanks. I might be able to do something with that.” I put the pad down and turned back to the computer.
“That’s it?” Her jaw dropped.
“Was there something else.”
“Come on!”
That was a fair thing for her to say because I knew exactly what she was talking about. She didn’t have to spell it out. “No,” I said. “It’s kinky and it’s unprofessional. You work for my parents.”
“Yes – yes – I work for your parents. Not for you. It’s okay.”
“I don’t know what’s worse, your logic or your masturbation habits.”
She puffed up with indignation. “I’m getting my PhD in logic,” she said defensively. It was true, she was. In only a year. And that wasn’t even the strangest thing about her. I looked at her short black hair, the kind of hair you associate with reasonable people. You associate logic with reasonable people, too.
I looked at her, and her eyes got real bright. She could tell I was making up my mind. I decided there was a way I could make this work to my advantage.
“All right, but if we’re going to be kinky, we’re going to do kinky right,” I said. “Or it’s not worth my time.”
She wiggled a little in the chair, looking doubtful. “Okay.”
“Get a necktie.” She brought one from my closet, and I turned her around and tied her hands behind her back.
“Oh, wow,” she said. She was starting to sweat, though it was very cool. I sat back down in my chair and bent her across my lap, resting her full weight on me. This was what she’d been waiting for; she cooperated willingly.
It started when she found out about some of the stories I was writing. She decided to confess something to me to even the score, and because she didn’t have anyone else to tell – and she was itching to tell. She’d watched a movie where a guy spanked a girl, and gotten really turned on watching it. Ever since, she’d been tingling to try it herself, but she couldn’t just ask some random guy to bend her over. She didn’t blackmail me, but my sense of fair play made me take her up. I didn’t really want to do it; even in this kind of harmless context, I didn’t want to hit a girl – but it didn’t seem like a big deal.
That time she put her hands on my desk and leaned forward. She wasn’t on duty, and she was wearing jeans. I struck her bottom for her a few times, and that was the end of it. Or it was supposed to be.
In fact, she enjoyed it so much that from that day forward she never stopped bothering me for a more thorough spanking. She couldn’t play the blackmail card anymore, because I had her too, but she also had some suspicions about me and Sandy, and other things that she would sometimes allude to.
But I don’t negotiate with terrorists, and I hadn’t given in. Then she’d gone home from the university for a month, and I’d had some peace. That peace was over, and I was not going to spend the next month with her pestering me. Something had to be done.
She was turned on beyond belief, but also uncomfortable, because this was very different from being on her feet, untied, and dressed in jeans. I knew she was a virgin. She’d never been touched like this before, and just being bent across my lap was a lot for her to take.
I lightly rubbed her bottom, and she wiggled in surprise. “Oh my God,” she said. I ran my hands over the curves of her buttocks, then firmly grabbed through the fabric of her uniform’s skirt. “Mmm.” Her body temperature went up a few degrees.
I gave her rear a light slap, and it went up even more. This was what she really wanted. I spanked her conservatively a couple times, and she started to get into it. So I stopped.
“Oh, come on.” She tried to turn to look at me, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move her arms much, either, but she waved them in the small way that she could.
I grasped her skirt and pulled it up. It’s a long skirt, nearly to the ankles, and I had to throw it over her back to expose her backside. She was wearing the garters and everything; her white panties were conservative, actually doing a pretty good job covering her rear.
“Hey,” she said, sounding a little worried.
“Hey what?” I asked, giving her rump another slap.
“Oh God,” she moaned, and a shiver went through her body. I gave her several more, and she was groaning in ecstasy by the tenth. I paused again to rub the firm flesh. I’d never seen her naked, and I still hadn’t, but I did know that she rode her bike around the university, and here, to the house. It was doing wonders for these muscles. I slipped my fingers into her stockings and rubbed her legs, and I trailed a finger along the line where the crotch of her panties ended, and her inner thigh began. She whimpered and squeezed her legs together, and I squeezed and probed.
By now I realized that she wasn’t kidding around. She was serious. I started to spank her again, gradually ramping up the intensity. She was gasping loudly with every strike now. She was flexing her bottom, and her panties were riding up, exposing more of her pale cheeks, which were red now from my blows.
There’s getting off on something, then there’s literally getting off on it – and Red seriously wanted to reach climax just by being spanked. I wanted to see if she could do it. But not yet. She wanted to moan, but her breaths were cutting it off every time my hand fell on her quivering rear. She was on the edge.
I stopped abruptly, taking her flesh between my fingers and twisting. She grunted and her pelvis shuddered.
“What the hell?” she panted, sounding like I’d just taken away her birthday cake. Her cotton panties were drawn tight across her engorged mound, and it was dark with moisture.
“You want it?”
“Of course!”
“How bad?”
She groaned. I pinched harder and twisted. “Bad,” she choked out.
“Bad enough to leave me alone for a while?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Promise?”
“Promise!”
I spanked her as hard as I could. She came with a series of jerking spasms that made her hard to keep on my lap. Her bottom clamped together and relaxed over and over, and the only sound she made was sharp breathing. She even ejaculated, though weakly. Fluid beaded through her panties and dripped down her thighs.
I gently rubbed her bottom until she calmed down. When she was completely limp, I picked her up and laid her on the bed, sitting down beside her. She was taking long, deep breaths. Her eyes were open, but not focused on anything. Tremors continued through her body.
“You’re going to remember that promise, right?” I asked when she looked more alert.
“I will,” she said, sounding very, very mellow.
“Put some ice on it. I have to get to practice. And change my sheets.”
Next: Practice
