Final part of the story from Blushes Supplement 27
Mr Viney wants hoovering too, afterwards. Like Mr Philpot. She is finally allowed to get down off that table top. ‘Some hoovering and then perhaps a bit of polishing, eh, young lady. Got to earn our wages, haven’t we?’
She can’t bear to look in his direction, not after that dreadful business. The caning was dreadful but that other... Mr Viney able to draw those awful sounds from her. Like an animal almost. And the dreadful rhythmic thrusting of her hips that she was equally powerless to control. No, she can’t bear to look at him.
‘Are you listening, young lady? Look at me.’
So she has to.
‘That’s better. You seemed to get quite excited. Enjoy that, did you?’
Shaking her scarlet face. Frantically blinking. Mr Viney laughs. ‘No need to be shy. Now then, this hoovering.’
She grabs the vacuum cleaner as Mr Viney goes out of the room. The memory of Mr Philpot. When somehow with her head full of what he had done she must have just stood there... and then before she knew it... Don’t think about what Mr Viney has done. Get on with... She begins pushing the thing around in a half demented manner. Tripping over her feet, the high heels, every other step. But she must... get this room done. Before he comes back.
Then a sickening thought. What Mr Viney said, right after the caning had finished and before he began that other dreadful business. ‘That will do for the moment.’ That meant... he is going to cane her again anyway. Mrs James has probably told him to. Perhaps even, ‘Give her three or four canings. That’s what she needs. Obstinate little bitch.’ Three or four times up on the table again. Glancing at it she feels again that heart-grabbing feeling as Mr Viney helped her up with his hands between her legs. She is going to be up on the table again whether she gets the room done quickly or not. The cane again. And probably that other too. And more than once. ‘Keep on caning her,’ Mrs James has probably said. Mr Viney smiling over the phone. ‘Yes, I think we can manage that. Leave it to me...’
Mr Ronaldson doesn’t want hoovering like Mr Viney and Mr Philpot. He wants the pretty Buzee-Bee to make tea and serve it to him in his drawing room. Then stand at his side while he has his tea and talks about the weather and the dreadful state of the country. And at the same time, when he is not holding his tea cup or something, playing with the pretty Buzee-Bee’s bottom. Which of course is bare under the skirt of her uniform. Just a suspender belt for her nylons. There were knickers when she arrived but they had to come off along with her coat. When Mr Ronaldson has had his tea he wants to cane her. Naturally. Isn’t that what all gentlemen want? They may not all want hoovering but they all want... over the arm of a chair, like Mr Philpot did.
This is Friday and her third day as a Buzee-Bee. Her third afternoon assignment. Mr Ronaldson lives out in the country, another big house. Today is a better day, no drizzly rain, the sun even shining a bit. Probably the Mini enjoyed the run out; but then of course all it has to do is wait outside. While its pretty owner with that pretty, short bell of blonde hair...
A muffled yelp into the seat of the chair. As the cane zings in. It hurts. It really hurts... But tell yourself it is not as bad as being up on Mr Viney’s table. And Mr Ronaldson hasn’t really, yet... His hand that was playing with her bottom while he had his tea, it didn’t really... Not really.
On Saturday it is Mr Filbright. Not just Mr Filbright but Mr Fieldway too. Mr Filbright’s guest. Mrs James when she hears about Mr Fieldway purses her lips and says, ‘Really? Well we shall be charging Mr Filbright for that. We certainly cannot have two gentleman for the price of one.’ Mr Fieldway and Mr Filbright make her do handstands. In front of them in the sitting room. ‘Don’t worry,’ Mr Filbright says when she says she can’t do handstands. ‘We can hold you.’
She has her uniform on. Also the nylons and the shiny black high heels, the black suspender belt. No knickers, because they have made her take them off. Handstands. The full skirt of the little black dress immediately inverting. Mr Filbright is happily holding her legs. Laughing with Mr Fieldway. Telling the Buzee-Bee to part the legs... ‘Nice and wide.’ Mr Fieldway has a turn. And Mr Filbright again. When eventually they are tired of this there is naturally caning. Naturally. All gentlemen enjoy that.
Mr Kingley... Monday. There has been no appointment on Sunday. ‘We’ll let you have a break,’ Mrs James says ‘I will send Amanda on Sunday. Then on Monday you can go to Mr Kingley, another very nice gentleman.’ Mr Kingley likes exercises. Or rather he likes to watch a pretty Buzee-Bee exercising. In just a pair of brief knickers: white and transparent. Really hard exercising. Mr Kingley likes to see the Buzee-Bee’s body slick with sweat. Then she can stop, and bend over a chair. The knickers which are sticking to her bottom are pulled down. Mr Kingley is ready to do what all gentlemen like to do.
Tuesday. Who is on Tuesday? It is impossible to remember all the names. With all this action.
‘Mr Baring.’ Mrs James says. ‘Here. Here’s the address. Write it down. You should have them all in your book. And that will be it. For now.’
That will be it?
What Mrs James means is that on Wednesday, Jill will get Mr Philpot again (or he will get her), Mr Viney on Thursday, etcetera. She doesn’t mean that’s it, no more visits. Just no more new gentlemen: It will be those six. (Or seven if Mr Fieldway is there again but Mr Filbright will have to pay for that.) Each week. In rotation.
Mrs James smiles. ‘And you’re doing better, Jill. I’m getting good reports. Everyone extremely pleased. You’re settling in very well now.’
Mrs James’ smile and the encouraging words are all part of the bad dream. She is in a bad dream that is just going to go on and on. Mr Philpot again on Wednesday. Mr Philpot with that dress he cut up to the waist. Mr Viney on Thursday.
‘That first time, it was just getting used to it,’ Mrs James says. ‘It is difficult if you’re not used to it. At the beginning. But once you’ve got over that there’s really nothing to it. After all they’re all proper gentlemen. We never accept anyone who is not. But you know that, don’t you, Jill. Now you’ve seen them all.’
The pretty Buzee-Bee blinks. All gentlemen. In the six houses with the leafy driveways that all seem to merge into one when she thinks about them. Perhaps it is all a bad dream. Perhaps she’ll open her eyes? Wake up...