Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):
“You see,” continued Sabrina, “While the compensation was certainly welcome, we didn’t feel you truly cared or understood what a nightmare we’d been through with your clients, and how actively Pretty Maids encouraged them to use us. We wished you could experience it for yourself, even briefly.”
Eleanor looked around wildly, like a lamb in a lion’s den. After years of protection in her ivory tower, she found herself face to face with the women she had exploited.
No wonder they were enjoying seeing her tarted up and humiliated. They were monsters.
“You must have some twisted minds between you,” Eleanor hissed. “This is a breach of my human rights.”
“Oh, everything that’s happening to you is based on first-hand accounts from your employees,” said Tom. “If you’d read the court documents, you might have noticed some similarities. I’ve actually not done everything to you that these brave women detailed experiencing, because much of it crossed the line. Even for me. So count yourself lucky. Some of us have scruples.”
“Scruples?” Eleanor screeched. “The things you’ve inflicted on me! Scruples?”
Just then, her dress snagged on the nipple clamps beneath it, and she winced.
“That reminds me,” said Tom. “I’ve been calling her Elly, since she doesn’t look much like an Eleanor in her little maid dress. Shall we all call her Elly?”
There was a chorus of assent. Eleanor stamped her locked-on heel in fury.
“You fucking Judases,” growled Eleanor. “There’s no way our clients treated you half as cruelly as I’ve been treated.”
“Has he made you scrub the driveway in the snow?” asked Aurora, looking Eleanor dead in the eye. “In just your underwear?”
“Well, no, but who –”
“Lucky you,” said Aurora.
“Has he gagged you with a chilli-soaked rag?” asked Mary. “You know, to watch you cry while you clean his motorbike?”
“That’s insane! Surely no decent person –”
“Correct,” said Mary. “But we’re not talking decent people, are we? We’re talking Pretty Maids clients.”
“Ooh, I have one!” said Eva. “Does he time your toilet breaks and turn on a camera if you take too long?”
Eleanor suddenly became aware that she needed the bathroom. It had been a long night.
“No,” she lied.
“Elly,” said Tom. “Are we telling fibs to our guests?”
Eleanor blushed mauve. He wouldn’t…
“How long does Elly get for toilet trips?” asked Tom. The women sniggered.
“Two minutes,” said Eleanor quietly.
“Oh wow,” said Eva. “I got four minutes from my client, and I thought that was harsh! You’re really keeping her on her toes, aren’t you?”
“Wait,” said Paula. “How about when we go to the bathroom? You’re not timing everyone, are you?”
“Goodness, no!” said Tom. “Apologies – I should clarify. Elly has her own special bathroom: the locked one.
Locked? Eleanor hadn’t noticed that the bathroom had been locked since this afternoon. But then she’d been trying to avoid going all night.
“So how does it… ?” Paula looked puzzled.
“When she goes in, a motion sensor detects her by the toilet and the timer starts.”
“Does she have a key of her own?”
“Ha! Not a chance. But I’ll happily unlock it for her. She just needs to ask nicely for a toilet break.”
This was met with hoots of laughter from the board.
“No wonder she’s not gone all night,” said Paula, grinning.
“That’s a good point,” said Tom. “Elly’s been running around all night. (Well, tottering.) Elly, do you need the toilet?”
“No!” barked Eleanor. “And I’m not about to ask in front of these bloody maids.”
“Right!” said Tom. “I let a few curt words and pouts slide, because I knew you’d been busy tonight, but once again, you have been disrespectful to my guests. Over you go!”
In one smooth move, he sat down and pulled her across his lap. The women creased with laughter.
“Oh my God!” said Aurora, clapping her hands excitedly. “I can’t believe I’m going to see Eleanor Kennick get an over-the-knee spanking!”
“No! Let me GO!” screeched Eleanor, her legs trapped by Tom’s. She flung an arm backward and scratched his cheek.
“Enough of that,” said Tom, pinning her arm behind her back. With his free hand, he flipped up her flimsy skirt and tugged down her knickers once again. The board members whooped and wolf-whistled as their hated boss got a taste of her own medicine.
“Fuck you, you piece of shit! And fuck all of you, you absolute leaches!”
“That mouth of yours needs to close right now, young lady,” said Tom, grabbing a small hank of hair near Eleanor’s ear and tugging.
“Owww! Don’t you call me ‘young lady’, you condescending, oily creep. And don’t you lay a hand on me! I’m a fucking business icon!”
“Try this,” said Mary, materialising beside Tom. She handed him a balled-up facecloth and a bandage.
“Thank you so much,” said Tom. He sniffed.
“Is that – ?”
Mary shrugged, an innocent smile on her face.
“Let me UP!” railed Eleanor. “Don’t you dareGLUMPPHH!”
Tom shoved the ball of cotton into her mouth and secured it there with the bandage.
Mary held up three fingers, then two, then one…
“RAWWRRURRGHHHH!” Eleanor roared as the chilli kicked in. “NWWWRRRRR!”
Her eyes and nose turned scarlet as Tom’s hand landed on her bottom.
WHACK.
“MNNNWWWRRRRRRR!”
“Be good and it’ll only be six. That’s one.”
She writhed, the chilli turning her face scarlet as the second smack landed.
WHACK.
“URRGGGHHHHH!”
Her eyes streamed and she began to sniff as the heat set her nose on fire.
WHACK. WHACK.
Eleanor was wailing like a child, her nose running onto the carpet. Her cheap mascara had run down her red face in sooty tracks, and her lipstick was smeared all over her jaw.
“Two more,” said Tom, as the women fell about.
“NNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
WHACK.
“Let’s make this a good one,” said Tom, winding up and delivering a paddle-strength swat.
“URGHHHHAAAAAAAAAA! URGHHHHAAAAAAAA!”
Eleanor sobbed and thrashed about, her blushing bottom rolling about on Tom’s lap. She had dribbled down the side of her chilli-gag, so her face was shiny with tears, snot and drool.
“Up you get, Elly,” said Tom, pulling up her knickers and patting her on the bottom. The snivelling creature that had once been Eleanor Kennick wobbled to her feet, her skirt still rucked up at the back to show the livid handprints on her cheeks. Tom untied the gag and Eleanor stood there, mouth open and drooling, trying to process the sensations in her body.
“I’m impressed she got through that,” said Eva.
Paula agreed. “She’s terrible at waitressing but she can take a spanking. Plenty of clients would quite enjoy hiring her. Lots of excuses to give her a red ass!”
“She looks like shit, though,” said Eva. “That’s the crappy Pretty Maids make-up for you.”
The group nodded, recalling the cheap products they’d been forced to use.
“Eva makes a good point, Elly. Why don’t you pop off to the powder room and fix your make-up? You do look a bit… tousled.”
Eleanor’s head was still whirling. She nodded meekly, eyes glazed over, and nearly overbalanced on her heels as she wove toward the powder room.
“Will she be all right?” aked Mary. “I’ve never seen a thousand-yard stare quite like that.”
“I think so,” said Tom. “She’s just shocked. Let’s see when she comes back.”
“Maybe I should help her with her make-up,” said Sabrina. “It can be tricky when your hand is shaking.”
“That’s very kind,” said Tom, “but I wouldn’t want you to miss the post-dinner chat.”
“Oh, it’s OK,” said Sabrina, grinning. “I’d be more than happy to pretty her back up. If you’re happy for me to play salon with your maid.”
Tom caught her eye and grinned as well.
“Please,” he said. “Be my guest.”
The rest of the group retired to the den and Tom prepared some whiskeys.
“We should probably start talking about the future of the company,” said Mary. “I know every lady here has plenty of ideas for ways to improve the conditions for maids.”
“That sounds excellent,” said Tom. He passed out tablets and notepads among the women, and wheeled in a large whiteboard.
“We could start with the name,” said Aurora. “I hate it so much. It sounds like a themed strip joint!”
“Put it down as the first point of discussion,” said Tom, and Aurora jumped up and wrote on the board:
PRETTY MAIDS NEW NAME
“Let’s have some more input,” said Tom. “Be bold!”
“Kill the uniform!” blurted Dao. Her hands flew to cover her own mouth.
“No need to shush yourself, Dao. Put it on the board!”
The suggestions came thick and fast.
“Code of conduct for clients!”
“Cleaning products that actually work!”
“All genders can be maids! Except – let’s stop calling them maids. Housekeeping professionals!”
“Great ideas,” said Tom. “Any more?”
“I think,” said Sabrina, walking back into the room, “that we should keep the uniform. And the Pretty Maids name.”
“What?” Paula was baffled. “You’ve had some of the worst experiences. Why would you want to inflict that on other women? Not counting Eleanor.”
“Hear me out,” said Sabrina. “What if we kept the slutty uniform and the bimbo name as a completely separate experience? So we could have our co-operative, ethical housekeeping workers, and they’d get to wear comfortable clothes and not have their arses pinched. And then we could also have our fantasy maids: workers who want to do less cleaning, but are happy to offer an erotic maid experience. Something a little like this…”
She steered Eleanor into view and the group exploded with laughter. The former boss had her hair tied into high, bimboish bunches, secured with black bows. Her face was plastered with makeup, from her false lashes and blue eyeshadow to her heavily rouged cheeks, and her lips had been overdrawn to make them look plumped, then coated with sickly gloss. Sabrina had even added bronzer to Eleanor’s cleavage, to draw attention to her tits. She looked like a sexed-up Bratz doll. Still, she had at least come back to reality, and was visibly sulking.
“I’m in,” said Paula. “Especially if Elly is one of our maids!”
“Oh, Christ no!” said Sabrina, laughing. “Elly here is just our model. The erotic maids will still be performing a service. They’ll just have better worker’s rights. I can’t see Elly here putting in the work needed to please a client. She can’t even serve dinner without throwing a tantrum!”
“It’s true,” grinned Tom. “She’d be a liability to the brand.”
Eleanor opened her mouth in outrage, but said nothing. Her bottom still stung.
“She is still on duty, though,” said Tom. “What do you think, Elly? Can you bring us some more whiskey without needing to go back over my lap?”
Eleanor was incandescent with rage, but another thing stopped her expressing it. She really needed the bathroom. Just an hour to go and she could ask Tom without an audience mocking her. She’d be damned if she’d ask to use the potty in front of these creatures.
“Elly?” Tom waved a hand in front of her face. “Hmm, maybe we need a better way of getting her attention, since the bell experiment was a little advanced,” said Tom. “Now, since ditzy little Elly needs an easier reminder, we can try a different tack. Do you all still have your little fobs?”