Stacy was dying. On the job 'less than an hour and already she had broken something.
Trish walked into the pantry and returned with a rust-colored leather whip. She lay the lash on the
– table and spread herself nicely over the shiny maple surface. Her hands found her skirt, and with a crisp rustle it was pulled almost up to her breasts. She tucked it under her.
Stacy had two separate trains of thought at that moment. The first was physical. Trish's slender legs and beautiful taut bottom were delightful to behold. There wasn't a wrinkle in the skintight white panties. A girl in that position was most definitely a super sight. Maids are so precious in white panties! It was a momentary sense of plea- sure, however. Stacy's second thought was of the situation.
"Trish, I broke the glass. I'm the one who should be whipped. Get up, honey."
"No way, Stacy. I started the foolishness. It's not the girl who does the breaking. It's the one who causes it. At least, if we all love each other, we don't turn each other in. We'd rather take it our- selves, but we don't have to. A girl always owns up to her mistakes."
"That's beautiful," sighed Stacy. "Oh, that's just beautiful. That's the way girls should behave.
Donna, at my last place, always used to turn me in because she liked to see me get whipped. Made her sexy. I never complained about her though to the
Mistress because she was so nice to me in bed. But you two are something else. Super special. I love your honesty. I'm gonna love you both a lot."
"Trish remained in her punishment position for quite a while, waiting for Norena'-to come. Dania, being bound, was of no help, so Stacy worked feverishly trying to do the work of three. It was fifteen minutes before the housekeeper came.
"Oh, Trish! Darn you, anyway!" she complained.
"I've so much to do. It's already close to five. It's the worst possible time for a whipping. I'm very angry at you! You deserve a good long one, Trish, but I just haven't time. I'll simply have to make it short but very, very hard."
"Yes, Norena. Thank you. I'm terribly sorry I've caused this problem."
Norena picked up the springy whip and posi- tioned herself behind Trish's expectant bottom.
Trish's hands gripped the sides of the table in anticipation of the hurt. Stacy knew it well. It was what a girl always did with her hands. Stacy turned back to her cheese dips.
"You have to watch, Stacy. It's the rule," said
Trish softly. Stacy wiped her hands on a tea cloth and faced the scene. A girl always had mixed emo- tions about such things. It wasn't the best to see your sister maid punished. After all, it did hurt her, and if you loved her you felt some sympathy.
Yet, if a girl admitted her own peculiarities, it was an exciting thing to see. Stacy knew it would turn her on. Especially someone new like Trish.
The sound of a whip swishing through the air and retorting upon a girl's bottom was unique.
There was nothing else like it. Nor was there a sight like the sudden red streak which appeared under her panties. The lash had been terribly hard.
Trish's knuckles were white as her hands gripped , the table edge.
The.severity of a,w,hipping was determined by how long it took a girl to start making sounds,
Stacj knew that through experience. Even, Miss
Cummias in domestic class,had taught,her,that.
The housekeeper's severity would make Trish yowl quickly, thought Stacy. Unless, of course, Trish . was a really super girl. Thus, when Trish gasped loudly upon the second lash it did not surprise
Stacy. Nor did her squeal at the fourth, nor her full- throated yowl at the seventh. The tenth produced glistening tears which did not quite fall, and the twelfth finally made Trish squirm for the first time. The fourteenth made her knees buckle for just a brief moment, but she quickly stuck her bottom back where it belonged. The fifteenth lash tore a strip from Trish's panties and made Stacy's pants suddenly very wet. She was afraid she was going to orgasm. There was no sixteenth lash. The housekeeper left to get back to her work.
A girl just doesn't get right up after a whipping.
Stacy knew that well. She lays, collecting her sen»s for a bit. If she's a good domestic she doesn't bitch about it either, nor wail, nor com- plain. She might say, like Trish did, "Wow, my ass." But not much more. Nor does a perfect maid get up, rubbing her flaming buttocks with her hands. She simply stands up and lowers her skirt back to where it belongs. If she has tears, she wipes them clean, and changes the subject.
"How are you coming with the dips, Stacy?"
But at least her punishment and courage gets her one thing. In this case, two things. A sensuous, warm kiss from both Stacy and Dania, and a touch- ing of the thighs when one or the other stood next to her at the counter. It was the language of girls.
No words. Just a touch But the message it carried was pure love.
Norena returned a short time later with the employers in tow.:I.t was always a concern, before the initial, introduction,; as to what the mistress and master would look like. Not that it mattered as far as a maid's duties, of course. But it was nice if the household heads were somewhat attractive.
Thus, it was with anxiety that Stacy turned from the counter to be introduced, for the Hillings had not been handsome at all. Stacy stifled a gasp of subtle pleasure. Master and Mistress were quite nice indeed!
They were much younger than the Hillings in
Albany. Perhaps mid-thirties, thought Stacy.
Young enough yet to still possess the desires and emotions inherent in employer-maid relationships, and with the physical capability to do more than just fantasize about it. Yet, mature enough to have the necessary patience to wring full benefit out of any involvement with a domestic. They would pun- ish, and bed, with sophistication and without hurry, and obviously would do both jobs well. A perfect age for employers, Miss Cummins had said.
Master was the epitome of dignified business- man. His'government service showed in his aplomb and bearing, and even in the way he held his mar- tini. His vested suit revealed his taste in clothes. It was beige, with a rust tie to give a touch of color.
Master was one of those gentlemen who did not expect his clothes to put on a show for him. The clothes were elegant and correct, but did not cry for attention. It was the handsome and sculptured face, and bearing, of the man which would be no- ticed in a crowd. He looked at Stacy with obvious satisfaction, which pleased her, of course. Maids are supposed to be looked at with desire. But
Master had dignity even in his inspection of her half-bare breasts. His eyes fell upon them,'as they well should, but it was' not a leering, lecherous glance that Stacy had seen so often from Mr.
Hillings. Master was of much higher class, and would control his emotions and countenance out- side of his bedroom. Master rated with Stacy already.
Stacy found only one word for Mistress. Elegant.
Rather a period type word, but the only perfect one. Like her husband, Mistress was dignity, beauty and class material. She wore her dark hair long still, which spoke for her refusal to submit herself to that particular age when some women feel they must wear a more mature hairstyle. As a result, the hair gave Mistress a subtle, girlish air of appearance which contrasted beautifully with her maturity of thirty-five. Mistress exuded sex, ob- served Stacy. Not in a blatant or obvious way, but in a sophisticated, controlled manner. It didn't shout out its existence, but it lurked just beneath the surface ready to blossom in full excitement at the right time. And by her eyes, there were many right times. Stacy knew females, even at her age.
Mistress was a delight, and Stacy understood her completely. Mistress was an enjoyable Jekyll and
Hyde, Stacy visualized. That erotic female who would sit in the library perusing a journal in read- ing glasses and conservative dressing gown. But her eyes would subtly follow the journey of a maid across the room, disturbing her thoughts, and within the hour she might well be a naked cobra, swinging her whip with sexual excitement upon the flesh of the young domestic who had aroused her. The whipping would not be frenzied with this