Story from Februs 23.
Red Cheeks in Room 616
by Michael O'Connor
It was on perfect July days like this that Jessica most resented her job as a chambermaid. While most of the world enjoyed itself in the sun, she was toiling in the most mundane job imaginable. At least it she were a waitress, she would get decent tips. Her only consolation was that, in less than two months, she would have enough money saved to kiss the Beachview hotel goodbye and join her sister in New York, in time to celebrate her twenty-first birthday in style. Only that could make her summer of drudgery seem worthwhile.
She was relieved to find that room 616 was not a mess. Having already cleaned fifteen others, since eleven a.m., it would be nice to finish with one that did not resemble a rubbish tip. This room would take her less than ten minutes. Then, she could enjoy a well deserved break. If only all guests could be so considerate.
She had almost finished in the bathroom, before she noticed the object on the shelf below the mirror. At first glance, it appeared to be a black leather belt, but closer inspection revealed it to be some kind of strap, with seven strips of thick leather on one end. Jessica picked it up and carefully examined it, smiling slightly. In her four months as a chambermaid, she had chanced upon many strange things in the rooms she cleaned. Pornographic magazines and sex toys were not uncommon. Compared to some of the bizarre belongings she had chanced upon, a strap was decidedly ordinary, but she found it nonetheless fascinating.
She could not help wondering about the guests in room 616. What kind of person would enjoy being flogged with a leather strap? She imagined a woman on the receiving end, willingly accepting punishment from her masterful lover. It could be a man being dominated by a woman, of course, but Jessica found the former scenario somehow more erotic. She raised the hem of her lime green uniform dress a few inches and whacked her left thigh with the strap, just hard enough to sting slightly. Then, remembering that either the occupants of the room or her supervisor could walk in at any second, she put the object back where she had found it and finished cleaning the bathroom.
While she was making the bed, she made another intriguing discovery. Lying on the floor underneath was a bulging packet of photographs. She knew she should leave them as she had found them and finish her work, but the strap in the bathroom had already stirred her curiosity. She glanced towards the door, then picked up the packet and took out the photographs. The very first picture caused her to gasp loudly. She was looking at the rear-view of a woman with shoulder length silvery blonde hair. Her upper body was laced into a black basque. From the waist down, she was completely naked. She was gripping the back of a chair and tilting forward on shiny black stiletto heels, legs wide apart. But it was not her pose that startled Jessica, but rather the half dozen livid red lines running across her ample buttocks.
There were several more photographs of the woman in this pose. In two of them, a cane was touching her backside. Most of the other shots showed her in an outdoor location, either bent over and touching her toes or hugging a tree, arms and legs wrapped tightly around the thick trunk. Her face was visible in none of the photographs. The emphasis was on her naked hind quarters, being variously reddened by cane, hand and what looked like the strap on the bathroom shelf. In the numerous close-ups in the collection, the results of the punishment were clearly discernible.
As she studied each photograph carefully, Jessica felt a strange tremor of excitement. She tried to imagine how the naked woman must feel as she embraced the tree, anticipating the next crack of the cane on her buttocks. Was being caned a kind of unusual foreplay, or did it take the place of the sex act itself? Such activities took place in a world far beyond the experience of the twenty year old. Though she was no stranger to sex and enjoyed it immensely, the kinkiest thing she had ever done was allow one of her boyfriends to grip his cock between her breasts and give her what he called a "pearl necklace".
Suddenly realising she had spent over ten minutes poring over the photographs, she stuffed them back into the envelope and replaced it under the bed. How she would explain herself, in the event of the guests walking in, was something she would rather not contemplate.
Jessica spent the remainder of the day tormented by what she had seen. She felt like a voyeur, who had stolen a peek into a deliciously dark and forbidden world. Had the photographs of the woman been more explicitly sexual, she was certain she would have found them far less fascinating.
She did not share her discovery with her colleagues, who would have just treated it as a cheap giggle. Instead, she clung to the hope that room 616 would still be occupied by the same guests, when she returned to it the following day.
* * *
She was doubly lucky. Not only had the CP fans not checked out, her supervisor had also failed to report for work, which meant Jessica was working on her own. But instead of seizing the opportunity to slacken her pace, as she would normally have done, she had cleaned her first fifteen rooms in double quick time, spurred on by the mouth-watering prospect of further exciting discoveries in 616.
To her delight, she did not even have to search for the photographs. A pair of bulging envelopes lay on the bedside table, like a welcoming gift. She forced herself to resist inspecting the contents until she had cleaned the bathroom.
The first envelope contained the pictures she had already seen, so she quickly laid it to one side. In the second, she made her most thrilling discovery, so far. The complete set of photographs had been taken in the very room in which she was now standing. That realisation alone was sufficient to stir her juices once more.
There were a number of bathroom shots, featuring the blonde woman naked under the shower and on all fours in the bath, ripe streaks of the cane printed on her dripping buttocks. The two frontal shots showed her only from the neck down. She was standing in the shower, lifting her heavy breasts in both hands and squashing them together. Florid markings of some form of strap or rod lay on her soaked, succulent globes. There were more photographs of her lying face down on the bed, kneeling on the chair before the dressing table and bent over the knee of the photographer. In the bedroom shots, her buttocks appeared more severely reddened than they had in the bathroom. A few taken after dark showed her pressed, face forward, against the window, her arms and legs spread wide, a cane creasing her already well punished rear cheeks. Had anybody looked up from the street below, they would have had a spectacular frontal view of her nakedness through the glass.
Jessica lost herself in her study of the exceptionally erotic photographs, forgetting that the door was half open and she was directly facing it. She struggled to attune herself to the feelings of the woman, who was obviously submitting to her punishments completely of her own free will. Her hands trembled as she leafed slowly through the photoset. Was the greatest thrill in the striking of the cane on her flesh, or the anticipation, just before the stroke fell?
She thought she heard a sound from the corridor outside, which panicked her back to reality. Hurriedly stuffing the photographs back into their packet, she replaced them on the bedside table and returned to her work. Seconds later, the door opened. Looking up, she found herself face to face with a woman with silvery blonde hair, who was unmistakably the model in the photographs.
She appeared to be in her early-forties, slightly plump, yet very attractive. She was wearing an ankle length black silk skirt and loose white blouse. Jessica realised she was blushing to the roots of her auburn hair.
'I didn't mean to startle you,' the woman said, in a soft Scottish accent. 'Are you almost finished here?'
'Uh... yes, almost,' the chambermaid stammered.
The woman studied her intently for a minute, as though reading her mind, then turned and disappeared into the bathroom. Jessica finished making the bed, started to leave, but then glanced in the direction of the bathroom and saw that the door had been left open. The woman had her back turned to her as she stepped out of her skirt. She was not wearing any underwear and the skidmarks of a recent caning were clearly visible, from the backs of her knees to the top of her buttocks. Jessica stared helplessly, once again experiencing that odd, warm tingling in her loins. The woman suddenly looked around, caught her looking and reached over to shut the door. Just then, a middle aged man in jeans and a white tee-shirt entered the room, startling Jessica from her reverie. She glanced at him, then the woman, and for a moment, the three occupants of room 616 were frozen in position.
'Doing a striptease for the chambermaid, Diane?' the man demanded.
'I forgot to shut the door,' she replied.
'I'm finished here anyway,' said Jessica.
'No need to rush away on our account,' he told her. 'You've cleaned the bathroom, I presume?'
He smiled. 'Then you can't fail to have noticed my toy. Careless of me to leave it lying around, I know. Bring me the strap, Diane.'
'Ken, I think the girl wants to leave,' she protested.
'Don't argue with me!' he snapped, startling Jessica. 'You needn't bother covering yourself up either. Our guest has already had a good look.'
'I really must go,' Jessica pleaded.
'Of course,' he replied, stepping aside. 'You must be very busy. Though I trust you found time to look through more of our photographs.'
'You left one lying on the floor yesterday,' he explained. 'I thought you might have found them exciting, which is why I left the second set out for you today.'
'Aren't you the nosy little cow!' Diane said, emerging from the bathroom, strap in hand.
'I didn't mean any harm,' Jessica protested, her face burning red. 'I just took a quick look. I couldn't help it.'
'Quite understandable,' the man reassured her.
'Understandable my arse!' his furious wife cried.
He snatched the strap from her. 'Your arse! Yes indeed, my dear.' He glanced at the name badge on the uniform blouse of the chambermaid. 'Jessica, would you kindly shut the door? You can leave if you want, though I suspect you would rather stay. Your appetite has been whetted, so to speak.'
Jessica knew she should go. If she was caught socialising with the guests, she would be in serious trouble. But curiosity got the better of discretion and she decided to remain. Her heart pounded as she shut the door.
Ken instructed his wife to remove her blouse. With a glance at Jessica, she meekly complied. Underneath, she was wearing a cream coloured lace bra that only half cupped the generous globes of her breasts. Without taking it off, she lay face down on the bed and spread her arms and legs wide. Though she hesitated before obeying each of her Master's commands, it was obvious that she was eagerly anticipating her punishment, perhaps even more so in the presence of the chambermaid.
Her husband looked at Jessica. 'What do you think, my dear? Should I spank her, strap her, or cane her?'
'Oh gosh, I don't know,' she replied. 'It's not really for me to say.'
'Diane is at our mercy,' he told her. 'She will accept her punishment by whatever means we choose. So tell me, Jessica, as my partner in dispensing justice, what's it to be? If you don't help me, you may have to take her place.'
She looked at the woman so helplessly laid out on the bed and realised the thought of trading places with her was far from appalling. But Ken was surely just making an idle threat, as part of the role he was playing. She did not think he would really contemplate punishing her.
'The cane!' she cried.
He smiled. 'I was hoping you'd say that. You'll find it at the bottom of the closet.'
Jessica found it and handed it to him, hoping he would not notice how she was trembling with excitement. As he flexed the cane with both hands, the woman on the bed looked around and bit her lower lip. Jessica could only imagine how she must be feeling.
'Jessica, pick a number between one and thirty,' Ken told her.
'Er, twenty,' she answered, her own age being the first thing that came to mind.
His wife clenched her buttocks.
'Twenty it is,' he said, raising the cane high above his right shoulder.
It whistled through the air and struck Diane's buttocks, with a snap like a firecracker. She responded with a small cry and Jessica winced. A straight line blossomed across both quivering cheeks. The man waited a few seconds, then delivered a second scorching stroke.
Diane gripped the sheet beneath her with both fists, crying out through gritted teeth as he administered a total of twenty resounding whacks, laying each one across her bottom with a well practised expertise. By the time he was finished, the streaks of the fresh caning lay cherry red over the paler hue of her previous punishment.
Ken studied his handiwork with obvious satisfaction, then looked at Jessica. 'Would you like to punish her now?'
'Me!' she exclaimed.
'There's nobody else in the room,' he replied patiently. 'She's had enough of the cane for now, but I'm sure she wouldn't object to a good spanking, for dessert. Would you, my dear?'
'Only on one condition,' Diane answered.
'And what would that be?'
'That she can take as good as she gives. It's not fair that I should be the only one on the receiving end.'
'Well?' her husband demanded, looking at Jessica.
The young chambermaid looked from one to the other as she battled with a dizzying conflict of emotions. The prudent part of her mind told her to use the door, but she felt a strange compulsion to participate fully in the game of which she was already part. She might well live to regret it, but might rue turning down the invitation even more.
'Would I have to be punished?' she asked, her voice trembling.
'It's only fair,' Ken replied. 'But you needn't worry. As you're obviously a novice, I'll be gentle with you.'
She considered it a moment longer, then agreed to the conditions. Diane raised herself into a kneeling position on the bed and leaned forward, gripping the headboard with both hands and thrusting out her bottom invitingly. Jessica knew what she was expected to do, but looked to Ken for permission. He directed her to kneel next to his wife, took her right hand and pressed it to the hot flesh of her left buttock.
'There's nothing to be afraid of,' he said. 'Diane is well used to receiving discipline and will let you know when she has had enough. Ready?'
'Then let the spanking begin.' He drew back her hand and planted a tentative slap on the woman's bottom. 'That won't do at all,' Ken tutted. 'Let me show you.'
With his left palm, he struck his wife's buttocks a full blooded slap that made her cheeks shudder and evoked a small yelp. Jessica followed his example and was rewarded with a cry that was more for encouragement than from pain. After she had struck Diane's bottom a few more times, she felt her initial nervousness dissipating and her arm settled into a spanking rhythm.
'That's more like it!' Ken told her. 'Let's have those cheeks nicely reddened.'
Jessica's instincts took over and she threw herself wholeheartedly into punishing the woman. Her arm rose and fell in a near blur, stinging slaps raining down on both livid buns. The electric tingling of her palm only encouraged her to strike even harder. She thought Diane would scream at her to stop, after a dozen or so smacks, but it seemed as though she was a true glutton for punishment. By the time she finally called a halt, every inch of her bottom was a throbbing shade of sunburn and Jessica's arm was aching.
'Your turn now,' Ken told her.
Though spanking the other woman had turned her on more than she could ever have imagined, Jessica was suddenly very nervous again.
'I... I'm not sure I want to be punished, after all,' she stammered.
Ken frowned. 'That's very selfish of you, especially as you were allowed to freely redden poor Diane's bottom. Besides, you deserve it. Peeking at our private photographs, without permission, was not a very nice thing to do.'
He was right, of course. Jessica allowed him to persuade her, lying to herself that she had little choice. Hesitantly following his instructions, she unbuttoned her skirt and allowed it to fall at her feet. He then told her to bend over and touch her toes.
'She has earned a punishment she won't forget in a hurry,' Diane said, climbing off the bed. 'My arse feels like it's on fire.'
'A sound thrashing is most certainly in order,' her husband agreed, licking his lips. 'What do you suggest?'
Listening to them calmly discuss what form her chastisement should take, whilst studying her submissively upthrust hind quarters, Jessica felt utterly vulnerable and helpless. It was a surprisingly exciting feeling. She knew there was still time to change her mind, but she wanted to experience the excitement the other woman had felt when being spanked.
It was finally decided that she would be caned. As it was her first time, Ken thought she should be allowed to keep her tights and knickers on. Diane vehemently disagreed, but fortunately for Jessica, his word was law.
Peering back between her legs, she saw him take up position behind her and flex the cane. 'Ready?' he demanded.
'Yes,' she whimpered.
She heard the cane slice the air, then felt the blazing bite as it exploded across her bottom. She choked back a shriek that would surely have been heard throughout the entire floor of the hotel. Diane watched intently, savouring this moment of sweet retribution. Jessica's flesh toned tights and white cotton panties provided meagre protection from the vengeance of the cane and she almost cried out for mercy, after only the third stroke. But the pain was accompanied by an undeniable pleasure that strengthened her resolve to endure at least a few more whacks.
She withstood two dozen, before Ken decided she had had enough. By then, her bottom was throbbing violently and her eyes brimming with tears. But even more intense than the pain was the soft, warm tingling between her thighs. She was almost disappointed it was over, until Diane spoke.
'I ought to be allowed to punish her too.'
'We'll have to see how she feels about that,' her husband replied. 'Had enough, Jessica?'
'Yes... uh, no, I er.... don't know,' she stammered.
Diane did not permit her to dwell on the matter. Gripping the waistband of her tights with both hands, she rolled them down to her knees. Her panties followed. Bright pink cane brands criss-crossed Jessica's creamy cheeks. The woman caressed them softly. When Jessica did not object, she inched her right hand down between her legs. A fingertip touched the hot, damp slit of her sex and she responded with a soft moan. She had never before been touched in this way by another woman, but submitting to the caning had titillated her more than anything she had ever experienced.
'Oh my, she did enjoy her thrashing!' the woman purred, manipulating her fingertip between her slick labia. 'Perhaps she ought to leave now.'
'No, please!' Jessica gasped. 'Not now!'
Ken smiled. 'Don't be cruel, my dear. Our guest obviously agrees that she has not yet been sufficiently punished. Is that not correct, Jessica?'
'Yes!' she gasped as the woman's finger slipped deeper inside her, driving her wild. 'I must have more punishment!'
In response, Ken brought his right palm solidly down on her left buttock, causing her to whimper softly. He slapped her several more times on either cheek, as his wife continued to vigorously frig her. The half naked girl was flushed and breathing heavily, drunk on a potent brew of sensations. He then disappeared into the bathroom, returning with the martinet that had lain on the shelf. Just as Jessica was poised on the brink of orgasm, Diane's finger was cruelly withdrawn from her sex.
She took the leather strap from her husband and he dipped the long finger of his right hand where hers had just been, standing far enough back not to obstruct the twin targets of her buttocks. Had he chosen to use something more substantial than his finger to penetrate her, Jessica would not have objected. She had reached the point where she was ready to do just about anything to achieve the blissful release that was so near and yet so far.
Diane began energetically flogging her with the martinet, the seven strips of stiff leather laying tongues of fire on her already tender nether cheeks. Ken's finger danced within her, in time to the swish and crack of the strap on her flesh. The combination of pleasure and scorching pain was breathtaking. Jessica reacted to each stroke with an agonised hiss.
At least two dozen lashes later, the girl's entire body rocked violently and she cried out in the unmistakable throes of climax, pushing back against Ken's clenched fist arid gouging the dark pink carpet with her fingernails. The instant he withdrew his sex slicked finger, Jessica slumped breathlessly to her knees, her face crimson and sheened with perspiration. The cane creases on her buttocks were a similarly irate shade, blending into the ragged streaks scalded by the martinet.
Having allowed her a few moments to recover, Ken tapped her gently under the chin with the tip of his cane.
'You'd better be getting back to work, Jessica,' he said gently. 'We wouldn't like to see you get into trouble.'
'Uh, yes, of course!' she blurted, clambering to her feet.
'Wait!' Diane cried. 'Before you cover yourself up, would you mind us taking a souvenir to remember you by?'
'What do you mean?' asked Jessica.
'A few photos of your lovely red rear cheeks,' she smiled. 'They really are a picture.'