An erotic novel with spanking and bdsm themes by Penny Birch. Penny’s niece, Jemima, is in disgrace and has been sent away to work in a hotel for the summer by her scheming step-mother - a woman who delights in dishing out bare bottom spankings. This is no coincidence. Not only is the hotel owner the notorious Morris Rathwell, organiser of the kinkiest parties in the country, but Jemima also met the hotel manager, Mr Hegedus, at one of Rathwell’s debauched parties. Then there are the hotel guests, her fellow staff and the truly appalling Mrs Hegedus to contend with. So that by the time Jemima is dressed up in her severely abbreviated maid’s uniform, she knows she’s already in serious trouble. Maids, secret worlds behind closed doors, and good old fashioned punishment for bad girls – Penny Birch hits the spot again with the preoccupations her readers love.
‘You are not my mother!’
‘I will be.’
‘No you won’t, not ever, not my real mother.’
‘Maybe not, Jemima, but I will be your stepmother, and as long as you’re in this house you’ll do as you’re told.’
‘Not by you I won’t, you bitch!’
‘What did you call me?’
‘A bitch, which is what you are, Danielle, a vicious, gold-digging bitch!’
She came forward, so suddenly and with such a nasty expression on her face that I thought she was going to hit me. My hands came up by instinct. Instead of slapping my face she caught hold of my jacket and jerked it sharply down my back.
‘What ... what are you doing, you mad cow!’
Her hand was twisted hard into the material of my jacket, trapping my arms behind my back and holding me firmly in place. Then she answered me.
‘Something your real mother should have done years ago, you little brat.’
I knew what she meant and started to fight, but I couldn’t move my arms properly and I was starting to panic, because the thought of her spanking me was unbearable.
‘No! You bitch, you do not spank me! You do not! You do not!’
‘Oh yes I do.’
The first smack landed on my bum and it had been done; my bottom smacked by the evil bitch who’d broken up my parents’ marriage. I went wild, screaming and kicking and calling her every name I could think of, but my struggles only seemed to amuse her. She wasn’t even doing it hard, and it didn’t hurt at all, but that wasn’t important and we both knew it. What was important was that I was having my bottom smacked, by her, and I could hear the tears in my own voice as I wriggled in her grip.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, you bitch!’
She just laughed and kept at it, smacking the seat of my jeans. Her hand was cupped, to make the smacks louder and to hold my cheeks, making me wonder if she wasn’t only exerting her authority but also getting a kick out of feeling my bum.
‘Get off me, bitch!’
‘I don’t think so, Jemima. You’ve had this coming a long time, and anyway, I’m definitely not going to stop until you learn to address me respectfully.’
‘Let me up! What if Summer came in?’
‘What about it? She’d see you getting a spanking. Why shouldn’t you be spanked in front of your sister?’
‘She’s not my sister! And ... and, you couldn’t, Danielle, not in front of her ...’
She was still spanking me, harder now, but it wasn’t the stinging slaps that were bringing me to the edge of panic; it was the thought of her daughter coming in from the garden and seeing me get it.
‘Fuck off!’ I screamed.
She just laughed, tightened her grip and carried on with my spanking; taking one cheek at a time, still with her hand cupped, but slowly, so that every smack rang out loud and clear. There was no anger in it any more, but there was something else.
‘You’re playing with my bum, you dirty bitch!’
Again she laughed, and when the next smack landed she didn’t take her hand away, but began to caress my bottom.
‘Fuck ... off, Danielle!’
I kicked out as I spoke, catching her shin. Her breath came out in a sharp hiss as I made contact, but she only grew more determined, holding me by my coat and under my bum as she forced me towards the back of an armchair.
‘Right, enough games, you little cat! Over you go.’
It was too late, my body pushed down over the back of the chair to leave me completely helpless, with my bum stuck high and my legs kicking furiously as my spanking began once more. Now it was hard, and fast, delivered full across my cheeks with real fury and I could do nothing about it at all. My feet were off the ground, my legs kicking wildly in the air, my face in the cushions and my fists beating pathetically at the arms of the chair. I was making my bottom wiggle too, and as she continued to slap at the seat of my jeans she had begun to laugh again.
‘You do look funny, Jemima.’
‘Fuck off, you stupid old bag!’
Her grip grew tighter and the smacks slowed to a hard, even rhythm as she went on.
‘Oh, and that’s another thing. I am not old. I am thirty-six. I am, however, in charge and you will do as you’re told, or next time I’ll do it properly, with your pants pulled down. In fact, maybe I should pull them down right now.’
The spanking stopped, but she kept her grip. I began to panic again, unable to bear the thought of being done on the bare, and struggled frantically as her hands circled my waist, her fingers going to the button of my jeans.
‘No, you can’t! Not that, Danielle! Not bare! What about Summer!?’
‘What about her? Do you think I care if she sees your bare bum?’
‘No, Danielle, please! Please!’
I was begging, desperate not to be stripped. She’d got my button undone and it was all going to come down to display my bare bottom. And she’d spank me like that, maybe with Summer watching, and they’d see, they’d see I was wet. I screamed out and lurched as hard as I could, but she clung on, pressing my body down over the back of the sofa as she fought to get my jeans undone.
‘Oh no you don’t!’ she hissed, and I’d began to sob in helpless frustration, still kicking my legs as my zip was quickly pulled down.
‘Well, what’s it to be?’ she demanded. ‘A bit of respect when you talk to me or a bare bottom in your own living room? Maybe I’ll even call Summer in to watch as you seem to find the idea so humiliating?’
My answer was a choking noise and she’d begun to tug my jeans down.
‘Fuck you, Danielle!’
Again she tugged, exposing the top of my panties. She laughed.
‘Knickers with little yellow ducks? I thought you said you were grown up, Jemima?’
I gave in, too humiliated to fight any more.
‘OK! OK! Anything to get you out of my hair! I promise not to call you a bitch.’
‘That’s better, but I still think you need to be punished, don’t you?’
‘No! That’s not fair, Danielle, you said ...’
She hadn’t let go, or stopped pulling at my jeans, which had come right down, leaving the seat of my panties on show to her. Again she began to spank, and to alternate the smacks with little pinches to the flesh where my cheeks were sticking out of my knickers.
‘What do you call me?’ she asked.
‘Danielle,’ I managed.
‘Better, but not really appropriate, not when I’m going to be your stepmother, and I do think an apology might be in order.’
The spanking had stopped, but her hand had closed on the seat of my knickers, pulling them together to spill my cheeks out at the sides and leave a little of my slit showing. One good tug and they’d be down, to leave me bare bottom with my pussy showing, my wet pussy. I broke.
‘OK, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I won’t call you a bitch again, I promise! Just let me up, please!’
She kept her grip.
‘I don’t think so, Jemima, not yet. No, I don’t think you should call me Danielle. Let me see, what would be best? Yes, why not? You can call me Mummy.’
‘Well if you’re going to be stubborn ...’
‘No, please, I’m begging you ... not my panties, Danielle, please!’
She’d pulled my knickers halfway down my bottom. A moment more and I was going to be showing, and I was sure she could smell me anyway, but that didn’t stop me fighting even more furiously than before. I felt cool air on my bumhole and screamed a final, choking plea, but she’d already stopped, not from any sense of decency, but at the sound of tyres crunching gravel outside. For a moment we both stayed frozen; me with one leg in the air and my bottom almost completely out of my panties, then she’d let go, laughing.
‘I suppose it would be inappropriate to spank you in front of your father, especially bare bottom. Why, he might realise what a slut his sweet little daughter is, getting all wet when her stepmother spanks her.’
I was choking with shame as I struggled to get my knickers up before Dad came in. Her words made it worse by far, but that didn’t stop me catching the worried tone in her voice, or seeing the expression on her face. She even adjusted the cushions while I buttoned myself up, and by the time the door finally swung open she was all sweetness and light. I waited until the perfect moment, as Dad turned to pull his keys from the lock, then mouthed a single word to Danielle.
If looks could kill I’d have been toast – hot, buttered and with extra marmalade – but it was too late for her to retaliate and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t dare say anything too bad in front of him. She didn’t, but kissed him and went to make him a coffee, now the perfect little girlfriend. I gave him a hug and ran up to my room, close to tears as I brooded over what she’d done to me. She really was an utter bitch, but there was nothing I could do about it when she knew so much about me. And she’d only had to say two words when she first turned up with Dad to make very sure I couldn’t call her on her nasty habits – Morris Rathwell.
That could only mean she knew about his spanking parties, which I’d been attending once a month in order to earn myself some decent pocket money over the last couple of terms. It had meant pretending to be where I wasn’t, while in reality I was having my bottom smacked by a group of dirty old men. Very generous dirty old men. How Danielle knew I had no idea, but she did and if Dad found out I’d really be in trouble. So would she too, because even knowing about something so dirty was going to ruin the whiter-than-white image she tried so hard to keep up for him. So while she could be pretty horrid to me she could only push so far, and she knew it.
She understood about spanking as well, and all the little humiliations that make it worse, especially when it comes to pulling down knickers. That, and knowing about Morris, had to mean she’d had it done, which was at least some consolation as I inspected my cheeks in the bathroom mirror. She given me plenty and I was quite red, but I’d taken a lot worse, and on the bare. Anyway, I like to be spanked, but not by her, and just the thought of what she’d done brought tears to my eyes. I gave myself a rub and tried to pretend I wasn’t reacting the way I would have done if I’d been over a man’s knee voluntarily.
It just wasn’t possible. The sight of my red cheeks sticking out between my top and my pushed down panties was too much on its own, without the heat of my skin and feel of my flesh in my hands. I tried to concentrate on the power getting it from men gives me and how I’d felt as I stood to have my smacked bottom inspected at Morris’s last party. His wife Melody had dealt with me, a tall, powerfully built black girl who’d stroked my hair to help me get over my shyness, and then held me firmly in place across her knee as she turned my school skirt up and took down my panties.
I could remember the men commenting on my figure, their voices amused or hoarse with lust. Coltish, one man had called my legs, as if I was a young horse being paraded at a show. Another had replied that he’d never seen such a pert bottom on such long legs, then asked Melody to pull my knickers down a bit more so that he could see my cunt properly. That single, crude word had been like an electric shock. Melody had obliged, adjusting my panties and then cocking her knee up to make my cheeks spread so they all got a good look at my bumhole too.
She’d spanked me so hard, with my arm twisted up into the small of my back just in case I tried to escape. I’d screamed and squirmed and kicked my legs up and down so hard my shoes had come off, but it had mostly been for show. With Danielle it had been real, but she’d had me, just as securely, holding me in place while she smacked me on the seat of my jeans, and on my panties. As I shut my eyes and stuck my hand between my legs I was thinking of how she’d threatened to strip me properly and what she’d have seen. She’d known anyway, because she’d smelt me, and I was absolutely soaking. It had felt awful having my jeans taken down, worse than when it had been my panties with a dozen leering old gits getting off over my bare rear view. But I wished she’d done it properly, spanked me on my panties and then pulled them down too, taunting me as my bottom came bare, telling me what she could see, telling me how wet I was, calling Summer in to watch ...
I cried out loud, determined not to do it, and forced my mind on to something else, my own rude rear view. My hand was cupped on my pussy and my bottom stuck out to the mirror, my spanked cheeks open to show off the tiny pink star of my bumhole and my fingers where I was holding myself. I was so wet my juices were running down my thighs, with my flesh pink and glistening as I slipped two fingers in to spread my hole. That looked so rude, and I tried to imagine holding myself that way for a man while he got his cock ready to put in me, but it wasn’t a man who’d got me that way. It was Danielle, the vicious, evil bitch who’d held me down and spanked me, who’d taken down my jeans and would have had my knickers down too if Dad hadn’t turned up. I’d have been spanked bare bottom and she’d have seen exactly how I was reacting, and if Summer had come in she’d have seen too, both of them laughing at me as my bum cheeks bounced and my juices splashed ...
There was nothing I could do about it; I was going to come over my punishment. I cried out again, a raw, broken sob at the thought of what had been done to me: spanked by my stepmother and on that awful word I came, while frigging myself off, utterly ashamed of myself even as I watched my own busy fingers snatching at my pussy with the juice squashing out and my bumhole squeezing as my muscles contracted in a long, hard orgasm.
My legs were shaking badly as I came, as much from emotion as the strength of my climax. The moment I’d finished I sat down on the loo, biting my lip with shame as I pulled out some loo paper. As I cleaned myself up I was acutely conscious of the feel of my hot, bare cheeks on the cold wood; it kept what had been done to me and what I’d done afterwards fixed firmly in my head. At least there were consolations, and I tried to concentrate on them. For one thing nobody need ever know that I’d masturbated, least of all Danielle, which would have been really unbearable. Better still, Summer hadn’t come in from the garden. Despite the situation I liked her, and she looked up to me. Being spanked in front of her would have been the final straw.
Eventually I got up and went back to the mirror to make sure it wasn’t obvious I’d been crying. I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Dad and Danielle when they were together, so I intended to sneak into the garden and find Summer, but I was called down before I even crossed the landing.
Dad’s tone sounded doubtful, making me wonder if she might have told him about my spanking, and even made him agree to let her discipline me. As I walked down the stairs, I was desperately trying to think how to get out of it if she had. Even admitting to my visits to the Rathwells was no good, because if I mentioned Morris’s name first, all she had to then do was deny everything.
Dad was smiling, but he looked as doubtful as he sounded. Danielle was smiling too, like a crocodile. I tried to sound casual.
Dad begun to drum his fingers on the table. ‘We were thinking about the rest of your year off.’
‘New York?’ I opened my mouth without engaging my brain. Had Danielle persuaded Dad to get rid of me by letting me take up Hudson Staebler’s offer of summer work in the States? He gave a long sigh and my hopes sank once more.
‘No, Jem, we’ve been through that already.’
‘No, Jemima. Danielle has a much better idea.’
‘My uncle is the manager of a hotel on the south coast,’ she said, and I knew I was in trouble just from the tone of her voice. ‘I’ve got you a place as a maid.’
‘Yes, a maid,’ she answered and quickly turned to Dad. ‘It would do her a lot of good, Jeremy. Teach her about real life for a start. You’ve been far too soft with her and I’m not being harsh. It’s for her own good.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, darling,’ he answered, but I could tell he had his doubts.
‘I do think it would be a good idea, Jemima, just for a few months, and then we can talk about Europe for next year, when you’re a little older and you’ve had a term at university.’
‘And there’s also the expense to think about,’ Danielle broke in. ‘Your trip would cost your poor dad several thousand pounds, and everybody’s having to tighten their belts at the moment. This way you’ll be earning your own money and learning to stand on your own two feet.’
‘But I don’t want to be a maid! I don’t need to work, and there must be dozen of girls who do, so it’s really not fair.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ she interrupted. ‘Really, Jemima, it’s for your own good. You must learn to stand on your own two feet.’
My mouth came open to protest that I had been standing on my own two feet when I was in the States, but I could hardly admit to what I’d been up to, let alone what I would have been up to if Aunt Penny hadn’t ruined it for me. As it was I had to bite my tongue while she went on about how privileged my childhood had been and how much I’d benefit from a taste of the real world, until I finally managed to get a word in edgeways. Even then my every protest was ignored as the summer I’d been looking forward to for so long was destroyed bit by bit. The fact that I’d got a good place at uni didn’t matter, nor that Dad had plenty of money, nor that the whole thing was just completely unfair.
I even came close to telling Dad about the spanking parties and hoping to catch Danielle out. He knew Morris, and had some idea of what he got up to, but was blissfully unaware of my involvement. There would be real trouble, but there was no way I could prove Danielle knew what went on, and I didn’t even know what the connection was. It was just too risky. I was going, and that was that.