Maid to Order by Penny Birch

After all, this was the woman who had watched her husband give me a public, bare-bottom spanking with contempt, and now she was behaving like an exceptionally emotional brothel madam giving a virgin to a client.
    I still had a few minutes to wait, and spent them searching the room in case he had any sinister devices. There was nothing more suspicious than a tube of lubricating jelly in the bathroom cupboard, but I found that more puzzling than reassuring, although I was sure there were plenty of things he could do with his hands and his cock. When I heard footsteps in the corridor outside I only just managed to get into position in time, standing by the door with my feet together and my hands behind my back. He came in, looked me up and down, then shrugged off the enormous fur coat he was wearing; not like the sort of thing you might expect to see in a fancy shop, but thick and shaggy.
    ‘Brown bear,’ he explained. ‘I shot it myself. Hang it up.’
    ‘Yes, Mr Morozov, sir,’ I answered and hasten to obey.
    ‘Good. Serve me champagne.’
    He sat down in one of the armchairs, waiting patiently while I dealt with the coat, opened the bottle and poured a glass. I made an effort to bend properly, showing off my froufrous behind and what little cleavage I had, but he took no notice whatsoever, sniffing at the champagne and taking a reflective sip before addressing me again.
    ‘I am told you are an obedient girl?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘But you disobeyed Mrs Rathwell, why?’
    I’d thought he was playing a game with me, and didn’t expect to be asked anything more complicated than whether I liked it up the bum, so took a moment to reply.
    ‘Um ... I wanted her to punish me ... to have something to really punish me for, that is ... sir.’
    ‘And did you feel that her punishment was fair?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Truly?’
    ‘Um ... no, obviously not. I mean, come on! Sorry, sir.’
    He made a harsh sound from somewhere deep in his throat which might just possibly have been a laugh. ‘But you accepted it?’ he asked. ‘Why?’
    ‘It was what I wanted,’ I told him. ‘No, not that exactly, but for her to push my limits.’
    ‘For her to push your limits. I see. And you enjoyed what she did?’
    ‘Yes ... yes, sir.’
    ‘But not just because it gave her pleasure?’
    ‘Not just, no.’
    ‘So you are not a natural slave?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘But you are a natural slut?’
    Even with him about to use me for some peculiar kink the question gave me a jolt and there was a catch in my voice as I answered. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Yes, sir.’
    The hard line of his mouth flickered into what might have been a smile. ‘Go to the bed. Climb on and place the bolster in the middle.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    I obeyed, making sure he got a good show of the seat of my froufrous and I crawled across the huge bed to pull the bolster out from beneath the covers. It was long, and so thick that once I was over it my bum would be stuck high in the air, the perfect position for a whipping, but as I put it in place he spoke again. ‘Along the bed, not across. Now climb onto it.’
    An expression I’d heard came to mind as I adjusted the bolster, “kissing the gunner’s daughter”, an old naval term for a whipping delivered with the victim straddling the barrel of a cannon. My tummy was fluttering badly for the thought of what I was about to get as I climbed onto the bolster, my knees well apart, my pussy spread onto the firm, rounded surface, my skirts puffed up at the rear to show off the seat of my froufrous.
    ‘A little further back, until your cunt is sticking out over the end of the bolster.’
    Again I obeyed, wriggling down the bed a little way to make myself available not just for whipping, but for fucking as well. I was wondering what he’d use, some vicious little whip maybe, or a riding crop, but there was no doubt in my mind what he was going to do: thrash me and fuck me doggy style with my hurt bottom showing to his cock.
    He