The Rich Maid

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

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The Rich Maid

(*****, M/F,, Edgy, cons)

A rich man hires a naughty maid. (Approximately 6,115 words. Originally published 1999-12.)

Albert Soresen III was an incredibly busy man, but he always made time for Maid Day. The last Friday of the month, that was their schedule. His flight from Amsterdam arrived at 9:15 and by 10 o'clock he was home, reminding the few servants still there that they had the day off.

Daisy arrived promptly at eleven, wearing a comfortable shoes and a light summer dress despite the fall chill. She carried a small garment bag with her outfit.

"Good morning, Mr. Sorensen," she said formerly, only he detected the warmth in her voice and the wink of her eye. "I will get changed immediately. Where would you like me to begin?"

"My den needs cleaning," Albert said, trying to mask his eagerness. "I'll be in my study next door, attempting to deal with some problematic stockholder issues. Please make no noise that would disturb me."

"Of course, sir."

By eleven-thirty, Albert was brimming with impatience. Where was she? Did it take so damned long to throw on a dress?

Then she entered the den. Behind peephole, Albert ducked instinctively despite the inescapable logic that she couldn't possible see him.

Daisy stood in the doorway for a moment, looking stunning. She was now dressed in her delectable black maid outfit with white collar and spotless white apron. White trim decorated the ends of the short sleeves, leaving the slender arms bare.

Albert had to imagine the shape of the body beneath the uniform, for the dress was loose-fitting and provided few details. The skirt went nearly to her ankles. The only hint of a figure were the long tails of the apron, tied in a bow behind her back, trailing downward over her the swell of her bottom. The covered flesh only excited Albert all the more.

Daisy had put her long hair into twin pig tails which poked out on either side of the back of her head. The hairdo deducted ten or fifteen years off her appearance, making her look like a college coed or mature teen. With her hair pulled back so tightly, her face gave an austere, formal look.

She was a very pretty girl, with a sweet, open face with large eyes and a pouty mouth. Albert had no doubt he'd be seeing that wonderful pout shortly.

Daisy carried a long dusting mop and she proceeded to move about the room, occasionally using the brush end to dust or clean up a cobweb. The room, while not being particularly messy, was not immaculate: Albert's house staff was under strict orders to _not_ the clean the den.

At one point, Daisy climbed the settee in the corner and reached up toward an awkward cobweb in a corner of the ceiling. This pose entranced Albert, for it arched her body nicely, revealing only a hint of the gentle curves hidden by the dark cloth of the dress.

Daisy seemed to have difficulty reaching the cobweb properly, for she extended herself more and more, overreaching until she nearly fell. To right herself, she dropped the dust mop and bent over, bracing herself against the settee. The dust mop when flying, clattering into the mantle and sending several small glass figurines smashing to the brick floor in front of the fireplace.

Albert burst through the door with a roar of outrage. "What the hell was that!"

"Oh dear!" gasped Daisy, gentle hands clutched to her bosom. "I seem to have broken some of your figures."

"Damn right you did," muttered Albert. "These were crystal from Italy."

"Expensive?" whispered the maid with a shudder.

"More than you'd believe." Albert stared at her for a moment. "I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to let this one go..."

"Oh, sir!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Daisy, but I will have to deduct this from your salary. If I take half your paycheck you should be able to have this paid off in, oh, a couple years."

"Oh no!" gasped the girl. "I can't afford that!"

"Then you should be more careful where you throw dust mops!" roared Albert. He was dimly aware even as he said it that he'd revealed too much -- she wasn't supposed to know he'd been watching through the peephole -- but Daisy didn't appear to notice.

She turned on the floodworks. Her beautiful eyes opened even wider and brimmed with tears. Her lips curled in that delicious pout he loved so much. "Oh, sir, please! Can't we come up with another solution? I'll do anything, sir, anything!"

"Well... in the good old days of my great-grandfather, maids were subject to discipline by their masters. I suppose we could institute something along those lines, if you were willing."

"You mean... physical punishment!" The girl was horrified, her sensuous mouth hanging open.

"Yes. And for something as serious as this, a mere paddling wouldn't be nearly enough. This offense merits the cane."

Daisy gulped. "Oh, sir, please, not the cane! I'll... I'll take a spanking, even a paddling -- a real hard one -- but not the cane!"

"Take it or leave it," said Albert grimly. "The cane will be part of your discipline."

The a long moment the girl hesitated. She batted her eyelashes at Albert, even smiled coyly at him, cried a little, but he was unmovable.

"Which is it?" he asked. "Discipline or salary cut?"

Finally she capitulated, dropping her eyes to the carpet and whispering, "I... I'll take the d-d-discipline, sir."

"Very well. I think we'll start with a nice long spanking with my hand. That should warm you up for the paddle."

"Yes, sir," said Daisy meekly.

"Are you wearing underwear?"

She nodded.

"Get them off."

Daisy didn't dare protest. She reached down and put her hands underneath her dress, lifting the hem high as she struggled with her panties. They slowly slid down her slender legs and gathered in a puddle around her ankles. She stared at them for a moment, then daintily stepped out of them.

"Very well," sighed Albert. He crossed to the settee and sat. "Lift up your dress."

Daisy licked her lips and slowly obeyed. She watched Albert's eyes, noting he didn't appear pleased until the dress and apron were gathered well above her navel. Except for her shoes, she was now completely naked from the waist down.

Albert drank in the sight of the helpless girl trembling before him. He noted her narrow waist and full hips, and the shapely thighs. In the center of his vision was her beautiful crotch, a slender vee of curly dark hair and mystery, surrounded by smooth pale flesh.

"Turn around," said Albert. His voice was hoarse and rough and he felt dizzy.

Obediently, Daisy obeyed. Her ass was amazing. Though she was pretty, her ass was the main reason he hired her. In thirty years of travels he'd never seen such a gorgeous bottom. It was full, round, and deliciously plump, yet it wasn't the least bit fat or bloated. Shaped like an inverted valentine heart, it was naturally graceful and sleek -- like an animal's body. The swell at the base was astonishing in its proportions, jutting out a good several inches. The crack was incredibly deep and pronounced, splitting the ass into two magnificent orbs of delight. Albert longed to bury his face in their majesty, snort up the naughty smells, lick the succulent naked flesh, but he refrained. That would come later.

Albert contented himself by placing a large strong hand on Daisy's right cheek and palming it, feeling the soft-yet-resilient roundness. The skin was satiny, absolutely flawless. His breath caught in his throat.

"Over my lap," he choked.

Still clutching her dress and apron up to her breasts, the girl laid down across Albert's legs. Her bare pussy was against his left thigh, exactly the way they both liked it. His right leg support her thighs, where his hand down rested, occasionally sliding up and down, rubbing her smooth skin.

"Are you ready to be spanked?"

Daisy's breath was nearly gone. She could only nod at first, then she croaked, "Yes, sir."

It began with a bang. The slap sounded tremendously loud in the small room, and Daisy quivered as much from the noise as from the sting. A pink handprint decorated the center of her right cheek. Three seconds later, a matching one trembled on her left cheek. Thirty seconds after that, both cheeks quivered and pulsed with a handful of pink blossoms.

"Oh! Oh dear!" gasped Daisy. "Ow ow ow!"

"Is the naughty maid learning her lesson?" asked Albert gleefully, continuing to smack the bouncing orbs as hard as he could.

"Yesssssir. T-t-thank you, sssssir."

"You are very welcome. Now be quiet while I concentrate."

The girl could only groan as the intensity of the spanking increased exponentially, the hard slaps echoing around the room and making every spank sound like dozens. Albert was going at a frantic pace now, nearly one spank per second. He spanked for a couple minutes in silence, then paused while Daisy gasped for air.

"How many was that?" he asked.

"Two... two-hun-dred and seven-ty-three," panted Daisy.

"Ah, well, let's go for an even three hundred, shall we?"

Daisy could only blink back tears as her bottom was attacked again. Her magnificent buttocks were no longer creamy, but bright pink. She groaned as she reached back with one hand to massage the heat out of the stinging cheeks.

"That was an excellent spanking, sir."

"You feel like you've been spanked, then?"

"Oh, no question, sir! I've been very well spanked."

They sat like that for a few moments, catching their breath. Albert breathed deep and watched the slowly heaving bottom with the fascination of a day trader with his eye on the stock ticker. The golden skin was just the right shade of blush. The curves of the orbs vibrated slightly when he ran his fingers over them. He could feel warmth pulsing through them. Most significantly, he could sense the impending eruption of the girl's body, feel the excitement building and her body tensing. It was time for the paddle.

"Daisy, in the lower right hand drawer of my desk are two paddles. One's black leather, the other heavy oak. I want you to get them for me. As you move, don't you _dare_" -- Albert punctuated his words with a hard slap to Daisy's ass -- "let that dress slip down to cover either your beautiful bush or red bottom, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," answered Daisy. She rose, gripping the dress to her chest awkwardly, and quickly trotted toward the door, looking, and no doubt feeling, ridiculous. She left the door open as she stepped into the hallway and went into the study next door. Twenty seconds later she was back, blushing as she marched half-naked into the room. The paddles were clutched in one hand as her other held up the dress.

"The paddles, sir." She offered them to him with a deep bow. Her face grew hot as she followed his eyes; he was staring unabashedly at her pussy.

"Is that dampness I see?" He reached out a hand and slid it up the inside of her thigh. Daisy shuddered, closing her eyes. Albert's fingers grew moist with the sweet juices dribbling from above. "You're flooding!"

"Y-yes, sir," moaned the girl. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Not yet you aren't!" cried Albert. At his slight gesture the girl was over his lap again, grinding against his leg, the full cheeks waiting his anointing.

The leather paddle was small and round with a stout handle. Spanks from it stung like the devil but didn't bruise; with care one could paddle for hours.

Albert didn't care to take care -- he just wanted to bring color to Daisy's cheeks without busting his hand. The paddle succeeded admirably, each flashing stroke leaving increasingly dark pink blotches.

Daisy's reaction was thrilling to witness. She quivered, writhed, moaned. She kicked her legs. She arched her back, wiggled her ass, opened and closed her legs, and rolled from side to side. She gasped, she panted, she howled. But not once did she put a hand back to protect her bottom, nor did she dare protest a single spank.

She lay quietly when the flurry was over, breathing heavily and sighing.

"Ah, not so wet any more," said Albert, his hand exploring between her thighs.

"It hurts so much," gulped Daisy, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh God it burns!"

"Nonsense. We haven't even tried the big paddle, and don't forget, you've got the cane to come."

Daisy shuddered, a sharp spasm passing through her beautiful body. Albert palmed her ass and rubbed the steaming flesh. For several minutes neither said a word. Albert watched the girl's cunt between her legs, however, and when he saw the familiar gleam, he stopped his gentle massage.

"Up on the settee," he said, rolling her off his lap.

She stumbled to her feet, clutching at her dress frantically, remembering to keep it high above her navel. Obediently she knelt on the settee and leaned against the back, her blazing buttocks exposed for the paddle. She shuddered and closed her eyes when she saw him reaching for it.

Albert grinned as he hefted the heavy wooden paddle. It had been his grandfather's. It was wide, long, and thick. A half dozen with it left bruising for a week. Exactly what dear Daisy needs, thought Albert.

The girl's bottom was unbelievable. The shape and smoothness was unparalleled. The quivering orbs were so delicate and feminine, yet remarkably tough. The spanking and paddling had only enhanced the flesh, enlivening the important curves with crimson and maroon coloring.

Albert tilted the girl forward slightly, arching her back a little more, and aimed the paddle at the underside of her ass. He wanted to catch that round overhang, lift her off her knees with his blows. He wanted to blister and really redden the base of her ass. Three or four blows should do it.

He swung the blade with all his strength. He felt it bury into the girl's bottom, the mass of flesh fighting against him, resisting, until finally, the paddle bounced back, the flesh quivering as he drew away.

The sound was like the roar of a cannon. It careened off the walls and danced around the room, dying slowly, only to be replaced by the deep, guttural growl from the girl. The growl soared to an ever-higher pitch, like an airplane taking off. Then it became an agonized scream:


Kneeling on the settee, Daisy had plenty of room to maneuver. When the paddle struck, her head went up. It froze for a second. Then her head went down, back buckled. Then she tossed her head back violently, pig tails flapping. Her body writhed with impossible contortions.

As she screamed, her hands flew back to grasp her ass, massaging the tender flesh frantically. Low moans escaped from her lips between gasps for air.

Albert sighed. "I'm disappointed in you, Daisy. You dropped your dress."

Daisy could only whimper in distress and hastily pull the dress back up.

Albert's hand slid lightly along her thigh, between her legs. The maid stiffened at the touch. "You know what that means, don't you."

"I'm... I'm sssorrreee," she croaked. "P-p-please, sssir..."

The man fondled the girl's ass for a moment, running his fingers over the flesh, gently pinching the skin to test its resiliency. She bit her lower lip to keep from screaming.

"This paddle does horrendous damage to the skin. I was only going to give you four," muttered Albert darkly. "Just four. Now it will be six. I'll count that one, but you have five to go." He paused, enjoying the girl's shudders of fear. "Think you stay in position for them?"

"Yes... yes sir!" cried Daisy frantically. She bobbed her head and her pig tails flapped gaily. She knelt in position and arched her back so her bottom was presented nicely. Albert nodded and picked up the paddle again.

Each blow devastated the bottom. The skin turned dark and mottled. At the center of the punished area, where the skin was the darkest, blisters formed. They swelled up by the dozens, tiny pebbles of crusty skin. They grew into each other, forming a rigid plate, a tiny island of hardness on a sea of soft flesh. There were two, one on each cheek, where the paddle had struck repeatedly. Albert fondled them enthusiastically.

Daisy just sobbed. She'd fallen forward across the back of the settee, too exhausted to hold herself up. She wept and wept and seemed oblivious to Albert's pinches and caresses.

"There, there," whispered the man gently, rubbing her shoulders. "We'll do the cane later. Why don't you go ahead and finish the cleaning?"

The girl sniffled and rose, allowing the dress to drop down. "Yes, sir," she said weakly. "Thank you, sir."

Walking stiffly, she slowly knelt in front of the fireplace and began to sweep up the remains of the shattered crystal figures.

Albert watched her for a few minutes, then retired to his study. Here he watched her through the peephole, admiring her gallant spirit. Even as she wiped tears from her eyes she set about her task of cleaning with an enthusiasm that was remarkable.

"She's a can do girl," he muttered. "A real can do girl."

Albert left Daisy alone for an hour while he dealt with some business. Oh, not real business, but _business_ of the most urgent kind, as in something hard that he wanted to go soft just so it could go hard again. He succeeded admirably, took a quick shower, rested for a bit, and then checked in on his naughty maid.

What he discovered was shocking. When he opened the door to the study to look through the peephole, Daisy was seated in his chair. His surprise that she was in his office and that she could bear sitting were nothing compared to his surprise at what she was doing. Her legs were spread wide, her feet up on his desk. Her dress was pulled up, way up, the lips of her cunt completely exposed. She was frozen, the fingers of her left hand inside her sex, her other hand underneath her dress fondling a breast.

"My Lord in Heaven!" cried Albert.

Daisy gapped at him wordlessly. Terror flooded her face. She couldn't move for a second, then she struggled to pull her hand out of her sex.

"Don't move a MUSCLE!" roared the man. She froze.

He ran to her side, thrilling at her terror. Her elegant face expressed so much emotion: fear, embarrassment, guilt, secret pleasure, gallows humor.

"I can see you have a lot to learn, young lady. So naughty, so VERY naughty." He rubbed his hands together as he studied her spread lips with the fingers between them. "Oh yes, this is worth of the cane, most certainly. Two canings for you today, it is."

Daisy began to cry.

Albert watched her until she stopped crying and just sat there looking sorry for herself. He stroked her bare thigh, making her wimper helplessly.

"Let's get you someplace more accessible. Let's see... why not the carpet? Okay, here is what you are going to do: you are going to get up and move to the center of the room and lie down on your back with your legs spread and up in the air. While you move, you are _NOT_ going to move your hands, is that understood?"

Daisy paled. "You mean walk... like this..." She glanced down at her pussy, impaled by her hand.


The girl gulped and fidgeted nervously. Albert guided her legs off the desk and to the floor. Awkwardly, she stood. Her face spasmed with foreign emotions as she waddled around the desk to the center of the room. Here she faced a problem as she couldn't use her hands to brace herself against the floor. How was she to lie down short of falling?

After several abortive attempts, she finally came up with an effective but degrading solution: she crouched, squatting lower and lower, her legs wide, until her ass nearly touched the carpet. Then she sat back, falling the last few inches on her ass and rolling onto her back. She lay back, panting, one hand still in her cunt, the other gripping her breast under her outfit. Her legs were spread wide, knees bent, feet on the floor.

The man had watched this complex procedure with great amusement, reveling in her myriad facial expressions and obvious thinking process.

"You're a beast, sir," muttered the girl from the carpet.

"Not yet," said Albert with a laugh. He knelt beside her and gave her cheek an affectionate kiss. Then he carefully straightened her dress, pulling it up so her bare ass lay in contact with the scratchy carpet and everything below the navel was exposed.

From the desk he withdrew a strip of leather. He held it before the maid. "A genuine tawse from Scotland." Daisy closed her eyes. The hand at her crotch wiggled a bit.

The tawse was two feet long and three inches wide. It was made of heavy leather, about three-sixteenths of an inch thick. The end was split into three one inch wide tails.

"Your ass has been well punished," he said thoughtfully, drawing her legs up into the air by the ankles, peering at her scarlet bottom. "And there's more to come, of course," -- the girl shuddered -- "so I'm going to punish your legs."

Tears sprang to Daisy's eyes. She looked down at her legs. They were beautiful legs, long and sleek, the thick thighs gracefully tapering to slender calves. The thought of the leather striking that bare flesh was horrifying.

"Here's the plan," said Albert. "I'm going to whip each leg in sets of three. While I whip your right leg, feel free to exercise that hand there. But when I move to your left, you must _immediately_ remove your hand. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I do mean _immediately_. Each time I have to remind you, it will cost you." Daisy nodded. "Now, keep these legs up in the air and _spread_. That's good, just like that. I'll hold your right and we'll start with it. Are you ready?"

The girl hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir," she whispered.

Albert moved the right leg to his left (her right) so he could access the tender insides of her leg. The first snap of the tawse brought a high-pitched cry from her lips. Three blood-red welts, each about the thickness of a thumb and five or six inches long, swelled up across the back and inside of her left thigh.

Grinning with delight, Albert let fly with the tawse again. The girl's cry turned into a moan as she frantically drove her hand inside herself. He could see she had it in nearly up to her wrist, now. He laughed and struck her a third, even harder, blow.

Stepping to the right, he took her left leg in his right hand and switched the tawse to his left. He could do these backhand, but this was easier. He noted Daisy still had her hand in herself and was pumping wildly.

"That's one," he said loudly, staring at her sex grimly. Blushing with shame and horror, Daisy, with agonizing reluctance, removed her hand. It dripped and glistened. She placed it on her hip and ran it over her belly.

The first stroke to her left leg wasn't at hard as the one to her left leg, but it still left welts, and this time Daisy had nothing with which to distract herself. She howled in misery and trembled.

"Oh please!"

"Shush now," muttered Albert, letting another blow fly. The third quickly followed, eliciting a sharp scream from the maid. Albert smiled, studying the spread legs. The small red blotches from the tawse looked like red fingermarks, like someone had squeezed the girl's thighs too hard. That the blotches were so small pleased Albert greatly, for the expansive thighs left plenty of fresh skin. It would take a while to mark it all. If Daisy had known what he was thinking, she would have wept.

The whipping does take a long time. For over an hour, Albert smacks the maid's spread legs, painting them red. He's careful and deliberate with his strokes, rarely overlapping them. He doesn't whip especially hard. There's no need to do so. It's the cumulative effect that affects the maid. She lies there whimpering and moaning, her sex leaving a damp puddle on the carpet....

* * * * *

The worst is the left leg. Though the blows are weaker, the girl must remove her hand from the comfort of herself. The agony of this self-denial is worse than any pain the man can give her. Nine times he's forced to count, reminding her that's she to remove her hand _immediately_.

In a way, the girl doesn't care. She's counted at least six releases during the fierce whipping, all of those occurring during a right leg whipping. If she's to be punished extra for removing her hand too slowly, so be it. It was worth it.

On and on continues the whipping. Daisy's legs are scarlet. The man has thoroughly lashed the backs and insides of her legs, and now he works on the sides and fronts. Daisy screams and moans. She's scarcely conscious of anything now. She moves by rote, some buried instinct telling her when to remove her hand, when to gratefully put it back in. The pain washes over her, soothes her. Her breasts are raw from her pinches and squeezes.

"Ten," comes the faint roar. Dimly, she senses displeasure, and even more dimly, realizes it's time for the pleasure to cease. It doesn't truly cease, of course, it just fades in intensity. She can still feel it there, swelling between her legs, an ache, an itch she must scratch.

Then the dream is gone. Albert looms above her, eyes bright and colorful. He's shaking her, pulling her to her feet. She doesn't want to move, doesn't want this to end. But it's over, it's over....

"Bend over!" commands Albert again, his voice exasperated. Finally she obeys, slowly turning and leaning forward. He moves her feet further apart, then wider yet. "Put your hands on the floor."

She falls forward, bracing herself with her hands. Her ass is the highest point of her body. Her legs are spread so wide her crotch is less than two feet from the carpet.

"I had to warn you ten times, so you'll get ten strokes."

There's a blinding flash of light. Bolts of electricity shoot through her cunt as though someone plugged her into an outlet. Daisy howled and writhes, waving her ass wildly.

There's another burst of light, blind fire eating at her sex. The lips pout and drip, the fire consuming them. The juice sizzles in the flames, hot steam rising.

The light comes again and again, a thousand fire ants, marching through the crack of her ass and into her pussy. She can feel them, thousands, millions, all biting and gnawing on her tender flesh. When the electric fire comes, it crackles across them, killing some, igniting others back to life. All over her body they swarm. Flashes of heat deluge her body. Her breasts are swollen and heavy, the nipples red hot pokers. Her lips tingle, her tongue flicking out to moisten the fire. Dreadful shivers shoot up and down her spine. She quivers, spasms, shudders. Her feet feel hot, then cold. Her ass burning, then freezing. Her hands tremble and sweat against the carpet. Hot tears tumble from her eyes and splash across the backs of her hands. She whimpers, moans, and thrashes her head back and forth.

It's too much, too much. The electric heat is consuming her. It's burned off her clothing and is now searing her skin. She can feel the skin cracking and peeling like old paint. Her ass, her beautiful ass, so sensitive and profound, is split open and the fire enters her most private entrance. The fire swells to mammoth proportions, so much she can't bear to contain it. It fills her, licking and burning her insides. It grows until there's no more room and then it grows some more. She can feel her body swell from the fire. At any moment her body will split, rent in two by the massive invasion.

Then comes the sudden cooling relief. It flows through her in jagged spurts of pleasure. At the suggestion, her own body releases dammed up moisture and coolness floods her insides. She feels it exiting her body, wave after wave of impossibly intense pleasure. She has never felt anything so good, never felt such joy, such desire. If she could, she'd stop time here, freeze it and never let this moment go.

But already she can feel reality returning. Her skin, cooled, is tingling. She's aware of pulsing pain, dull and achy, from her legs and ass and crotch. The tender lips of her sex are sore, ridiculously sensitive. Just the cool air against them hurts so badly it brings tears to her eyes. There's a sharp, insistent pain from behind, from the middle of her ass, where something has impaled her. Her arms and calves complain about her awkward position, ridiculously bent over like a crab, her naked ass in the air.

Daisy struggles to rise, is helped by a strong arm which lifts her backward. She falls against him, her ass tight and warm against his skin.

"Oh God," she moans. "I've seen heaven."

* * * * *

An hour later, Daisy was still asleep. Albert let her. He sat reading a novel, watching her occasionally. She looked so peaceful and happy. He'd removed her maid outfit. She was nude on the settee in the den. She looked gorgeous, the lovely shape of her body curled on the soft cushions. He'd tried to cover her with a warm blanket, but she'd pushed it off, mumbling something about the heat. She preferred the cool air against her skin, which wasn't surprising, considering her whole backside was one huge red welt.

Daisy stirred, lifting her head and blinking. She stared at Albert for a moment. He didn't move, just stared back. Though no words were said, several books worth of information passed between the two.

Finally Daisy broke off, looking away. Her eyes went to the long brown cane with the curled handle. It was propped up against a chair in the center of the room. She gulped and looked helplessly at Albert. He smiled.

"Any time you're ready, dear."

Daisy sighed. "I don't think I'll ever be ready again, not after today."


"More than that. It was so far beyond intense, it was another universe, another plane, another level."

"I suppose, then, a caning would just be a let down."

Daisy got to her feet and stretched, rolling her limbs and body like a cat. "No," she said thoughtfully, "a caning is exactly what I need to bring me back to reality. A caning and a nap, and I just had a nap."

"Very well. Your first caning will be for touching yourself without permission. I will cane your naughty naughty hands."

The naked girl watched him for a moment, then nodded. She walked up to him and held out her left hand.

Albert smiled, stood, and took up the cane. He struck fiercely, quickly, delivering three strokes in less than twenty seconds.

The girl stared at her trembling hand as though it belonged to someone else. Three swollen weals gleaming across the palm. She slowly brought it to her face and her pink tongue flicked out to touch a weal. She winced.

"Other hand."

She stuck out her right and the process was repeated. She had trouble keeping her hand still for the sixth, causing a weal to cross the lower part of her fingers. She winced again, wiggling the fingers of both hands and blowing on them.

"Now for your bottom," said Albert.

Impassively, as though asleep and dreaming, Daisy turned. She bent over expertly, grasping her ankles with her sore hands. She got a tight grip, the best she could manage, and held her breath.

There was a gentle _swoosh_ and _CRACK!_ and she stiffened but didn't rise. A red trail blossomed across the middle of her bottom. Seconds later it was joined by a matching pair, and then there were four.

"Ah!" gasped Daisy, blinking back the tears. She reaffirmed her grip on her ankles, wincing as the cane struck again. And again.

For a second or two she didn't move. Her eyes were closed as though she were deep in thought. Then they sprang up suddenly, as though a catch had been released. She slowly rose, grimacing. She put her hands in the small of her back and arched backward, groaning slightly. She did not touch her buttocks.

"I believe that will do it," she whispered.

"Very well," sighed Albert. He crossed to a chair and took out his checkbook. "I do wish you'd let me videotape these sessions. Today was... special"

Daisy smiled. "Yes, it was. And not having it on tape makes it all the more special, doesn't it."

Albert cocked his head slightly, staring at her. "You're a very perceptive girl."

"That's why I get paid the big bucks," she laughed. "That and my ass."

"It's the hot tub for you this weekend, I imagine," said Albert. "Lots of soaking for that wonderful skin of yours."

"I've got more skin creams than you'd think were invented. I must spend a grand a month on them!"

Albert laughed. "So, what's the total?"

Daisy frowned. "This is unusual, but I'm not exactly sure. I think I lost count somewhere in the middle there."

Albert's eyebrows went up. "Lost count? That's so unlike you!"

"I know," blushed Daisy. "But I was a little... distracted."

"Well, what do you remember?"

"Let's see... it was three hundred with your hand. Then there were 120 with the leather paddle. That's $1200. Then those six with the big wooden paddle... God, I thought you were killing me! Fifty each seems a bit, well, small."

"Shall we say a hundred?"

"That's better."

"And what about the tawse?"

"That's were I lost count. There musta been a couple hundred, don't you think?"

Albert grinned. "I counted three before I lost track myself."

Daisy gasped. "Three hundred! My God, that's... $7500!"

"Worth every penny, my dear. We'll round it to eight, just to be safe. And what about those extra special spanks?"

"Oh, you mean those... uh, I'm not sure. What do I charge for them? A hundred?"

"Sounds fair. Another grand, then. And then there's the cane."

"God yes! Don't forget the cane!"

"At $200 each that's $2400."

"And the total?"

Albert paused for a second. "$13,500."

Daisy whistled. "Not bad for a day's work."

"I'm afraid you won't be working again for a while...."

"Of course not!" giggled the girl.

Albert hesitated. "What about... the other."

For a second Daisy didn't know what he meant. Then it hit her. She shrugged. She was feeling good. "Hell with it," she said. "Consider it a bonus."

"Are you sure?" asked Albert. "You were very tight. I wasn't sure if... you know, if you were, uh, experienced in such matters."

Daisy laughed. "I'm not as young as I pretend to be, old man."

"Good. I'd hate to think I, a mere mortal, was contributing to the education of a goddess." Albert wrote in his checkbook for a second, then tore out the check and passed it to Daisy.

"Fifteen!" she gasped. "You're in a generous mood today."

"Business has been going well. And you were particularly delightful. As I said, today was special."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I did too."

"Next month?"

"Of course." Daisy stood and began to gather up her clothes. She paused when she found the panties. She glanced at Albert and his look said it all. She kicked them under the settee. "I think I'll 'accidentally' forget these," she said with a smile.

"You're a mind-reader. Best maid I ever hired!"

"Speaking of maids, you'll probably want someone to clean off that fireplace better. I'm afraid I didn't do a very good job."

"Naughty of you," said Albert lecherously, his hands reaching forward eagerly.

"Ah ah! I'm off the clock! You should have caught me before. It would have been worth at least a slippering," she winked coyly.

"I'm afraid I completely failed to notice," muttered Albert. "I shall be more critical next time."


The End