Maid to Order (28 page)

‘What about Summer?’ I asked.

‘She’ll be living with her father, I believe. And now, as I’ve driven all the way from London to deliver your filthy pictures, how about a spot of lunch?’

I knew that wasn’t all he was after, but it seemed only fair. He’d obviously set the whole thing up, and while he undoubtedly had his own interests at heart they coincided with mine, and with Pippa’s. He was going to want us to say thank you too, which meant going nude in the pool with a sister and sister double blowjob to follow.

We were still splashing about when Penny came back, but once we’d explained the situation it wasn’t difficult to persuade her to strip off and join us, or to go over Morris’s knee for a quick spanking while Pippa and I posed for him with our wet bottoms stuck out for inspection. The three of us sucked him off together as he lay back on one of the sun loungers with a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other, taking turns with his cock in our mouths while the others licked at his balls or snogged to give him something extra to get off on. He came in my face, and all over his shirt, in Pippa’s hair too, so the three of us went inside to clean up.

Penny stayed outside, towelling herself off before lying down on the sun lounger. She’d put her panties back on, but soon had them pulled aside, masturbating shamelessly in the warm sunlight. We’d been about to start getting lunch together, but stopped to watch, calling Morris to the window so that he could enjoy the view. Her eyes were closed in bliss, her thighs spread to show off her open cunt, her head no doubt full of dirty thoughts; of spanking and sucking cock and snogging with her nieces, so she never saw the slim, steel-haired woman who came into the garden, not until far too late. A single, sharp word reached us through the window.

‘Penelope!’

Pippa and I began to retreat from the window, dragging Morris with us.

‘Who’s the old dragon?’ he demanded.

‘Great Aunt Geraldine!’ I told him.

‘Her mum,’ Pippa added.

It wasn’t the first time Mum had caught me in an embarrassing situation. There was the time she’d walked in on me while I was being spanked by Marjorie Burgess, and the incident with AJ on Paddington station, which had been even worse. Yet in both cases I’d had very little say in what was happening, so had been able to at least try to explain myself without admitting what I was into. Now it was different. Not only had I been masturbating, but I’d been whispering “spank me, spank me” as I thought of how it had felt to be done across Morris’s knee with Pippa and Jemima watching.

I couldn’t speak for embarrassment, my face burning with blushes as she looked down on me in shock, disapproval, disappointment; expressions I remembered so well from every time I’d failed to meet her standards. Her tone of voice when she spoke was equally familiar, showing that same touch of patient exasperation I could remember right back to the nursery, but what she said was far from familiar. ‘I really rather think I’ll have to, spank you, that is. Get up.’

She sat down on the other sun lounger, her face stern but unemotional as she patted her lap.

‘Come across my knee, Penelope.’

I couldn’t stop myself, but my heart was hammering in my chest and my face must have been crimson as I got down across her knee with my bottom lifted, in the same humiliating position I’d adopted a thousand times for a hundred people, but never like this, never across my own mother’s lap with my cheeks bulging out my big white panties behind and not a stitch on besides, my little tits dangling down by her leg. My tears had come even before I was properly in position; big, oily drops rolling down my face to splash on the concrete beneath me; tears of shame and sorrow and self-pity, but also of relief. A vast, all embracing sense of relief for what was about to be done to me: smacked by my own mother.

She took down my knickers. That is so easy to say, but it meant so much, to have my bottom laid bare, without comment or fuss; my panties just pulled down for the sake of convenience. And after all, why should a daughter have any modesty in front of her mother? I needed it though, and maybe she knew, because instead of just turning them down to get me exposed and vulnerable, she took them right off, to leave me baby-bare naked across her lap; trying to be a big girl about it but crying softly as I waited for her to begin.

‘I should have done this a very long time ago,’ she said, and her hand had settled on my bottom.

‘Yes,’ I answered, the only word I’d spoken, and my spanking had begun.

She wasn’t clever about it, let alone rude. There were none of the little tricks I was used to, and she didn’t say a word. She just spanked me, and if my bottom was lifted and my anus and cunt on show to her, then that was as it should be, my rear view completely exposed as I was given what I deserved, and needed: a firm, purposeful spanking from a stern but tender mother to her naughty daughter.

I didn’t know why she’d done it; whether she’d been talking to Aunt Elaine, if she wanted to punish me for masturbating in the garden, or if she just felt it was about time I got it for a lifetime of being a dirty-minded, stuck-up little know-all. Maybe it was all three, but it didn’t matter anyway. It was her right: to take down my panties and spank my bottom, whenever she liked and wherever she liked, because I was very sure that although it was the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

When she finally stopped I was hot behind, but not really in pain, and while I knew my bum would be very red there wouldn’t be bruising. That was just right, not hurting me, but putting me very firmly in my place, at thirty-eight years old, exactly where I ought to be, lying nude and spanked across my mother’s knee. I didn’t want to get up either, but lay there, still crying, with my red bottom lifted for the world to see exactly what had been done to me, everything forgotten, until Morris Rathwell’s voice brought me sharply back down to Earth.

‘Mrs Birch, I believe? Er ... I wonder if I might interest Penny and yourself you in a little proposition?’