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The women thanked Eleanor for their drinks and then ignored her and continued chatting. This suited Eleanor, who wandered off toward the kitchen, pondering new ways to cause mischief.
Spotting a bottle of olive oil on the side, she picked it up, along with a roll of paper towel. Taking them into the dining room, she doused a section of towel in oil and ran it over random leather seat cushions. That would ruin their nice trousers.
Next, she took some of the bread provided with the meal and scattered crumbs across the floor in prominent places. She noted with satisfaction the staining on the tablecloth from earlier, and enhanced it by running a sharp knife through one section, ragging out the edges so it looked old and tatty.
That’ll do for now, she thought. Just enough to make these rich bitches turn off their noses at Tom’s scruffy table.
“Pippy!” she heard. “Where are you?”
Grumpily, she wobbled back through to the guests.
“Pippy, would you get the large black gift bag from the hall cupboard, please?” said Tom.
“Yes, Sir,” said Eleanor, plastering on a fake smile.
She returned with a stiff bag containing a dozen or so little boxes.
“Hand them out please, there’s a good girl,” said Tom, enjoying how much Eleanor hated being belittled.
Eleanor gave each guest a box and they began to open them. Each one contained a little silver bell and a small plastic device.
“What’s this?” asked a young Polish woman. She rang the bell, producing a sweet, resonant jingle.
“Since you’re all guests in my house, I want you to have anything you need,” said Tom. “Whenever you need anything, just ring and Pippy will come running. Isn’t that right, Pippy?”
“I –” Eleanor was faintly outraged.
“And if she doesn’t respond promptly,” Tom added, “I would like you to tell me, so I can discipline her.”
The women laughed.
“That is diabolical!” said the Polish woman, spluttering through her drink. “Is this part of her training?”
“Yes – a little challenge to help build her awareness,” said Tom. “I want Pippy to be on alert to please at all times. You’ve seen that she can be a little sassy, so the best plan is to keep her busy.”
“I love it,” said a girl with a rich Jamaican brogue. “Maybe this could be a feature we offer clients in future!”
“Good idea, Sabrina!” said one of the others.
Sabrina jingled the bell.
Eleanor scowled and folded her arms. A bell? She wasn’t a fucking dog!
Everyone looked at her.
“Pippy,” said Tom, as if talking to a little girl. “I think someone wants your assistance. Are we going to be a good girl and see what they need?”
Eleanor shot daggers at him, then stomped over to Sabrina’s chair.
“How may I help?” she asked, through gritted teeth.
“I’ll have another spritzer, please, darling,” said Sabrina. “And why don’t you do a little twirl for us, so we can make sure your uniform is correct?”
Eleanor snatched the glass and did a perfunctory spin, before stalking off to the kitchen.
She heard giggles as she left, and listened in as she made the spritzer.
“That attitude!” That was Mary, the confident woman from earlier. “A client would be within their rights to spank her for that.”
The others chuckled.
“It might help her attitude,” said the Polish girl. “No one would put up with that pout!”
“I don’t know,” said Tom. “The pout might be right up some clients’ street. It wouldn’t stop them smacking her bottom for insolence – in fact, they’d enjoy having an excuse.”
“I like the corset,” said the Filipino woman, gesturing at Eleanor as though she were furniture. “Teeny-tiny waist, good posture, and it forces girls to wiggle their bottom when they walk, especially with those heels!”
She took a sip of her drink, and added: “I mean, you could use it for discipline as well. Get a corset that’s just too tight, and cinch it in by an inch for each mistake.”
“Aurora, you’re a genius,” said Tom.
“It’s all about pleasing the client, right?” said Sabrina.
Eleanor listened, appalled. Had a fellow woman really said that?
She considered spitting in Sabrina’s drink, but realised it would be too obvious now.
Walking back through, she was annoyed at how much the corset did make her bottom jiggle. It was impossible to walk in a way that didn’t show off her curves.
Sabrina accepted the drink without a word.
“Stay there,” Tom told Eleanor. “We’ll be heading through for food in a moment, but I need you on hand in case my guests need anything. Wait quietly in the corner and we’ll ring if we think of anything.”
Damnit. She had hoped to sneak off and look at the letter tucked inside her corset.
“So what’s this for, Tom?” A petite Brazilian woman held up the plastic device, which looked like a key fob.
“Ah,” said Tom. “Trust Paula to notice the mystery object. We will see if we need those later. But first, dinner.”
Once everyone was seated, Eleanor stood in the corner, watching to see how her handiwork was going down.
The woman seated by the torn tablecloth frowned as she poked a finger through the gap. Tom noticed.
“I’m terribly sorry. Pippy must have snagged that as she laid the table.”
Eleanor batted her eyes, innocently.
“She ought to get a demerit for that,” said the woman. Tom nodded and got out his book to make a note.
Eleanor was confused. That wasn’t supposed to happen! How did these new board members know about the demerit system?
“Uh, Tom?” said Mary, holding up a chipped ‘BBC’ mug. ‘These your only wine glasses?’
Tom was taken aback. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Sorry about that. Pippy must have mixed up her drinking vessels. She’s used to drinking cheap wine from old mugs. Anyone else need a glass?”
A handful of women held up their mugs for collection. Tom directed Eleanor to exchange them for wine glasses, showing her where his glassware was kept.
As Eleanor smiled to herself and walked langidly off to make the swap, Tom raised an eyebrow at her, mildly impressed by her sabotage.
Let’s keep those idle hands busy, he thought. When she returned with the wine glasses, he thanked her warmly and spoke as he poured for everyone.
“Colleagues,” said Tom, “Before we start eating, could I ask you each to ring your bell so Pippy can identify you?”
What? thought Eleanor.
One by one, the bells sounded, and Eleanor realised each one had a slightly different tone. Tom asked them to repeat the sequence, to help his scatterbrained maid remember whose was whose.
“If you need Pippy’s help at any point,” said Tom, “please ring your bell from beneath the table. I want to train my maid to listen. She needs to remember your individual bells and identify the caller.”
Eleanor blanched. That would be impossible!
“That sounds a little… difficult,” said the shy Thai lady from earlier.
“You’re right, Dao,” said Tom. “I am an exacting boss. But I do think a challenge can really make a maid shine.”
He placed the demerit book in the middle of the table, along with a pen.
“I’ll leave this here,” he said. “If Pippy is slow or sullen, or if she comes to the wrong guest, I would like the error to be recorded.”
“I LOVE this,” said Eva, the Polish woman.
“Me too,” said Paula. She rang her bell under the table. After a half-second pause, Eleanor walked over to her.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“Hmm, no thanks!” said Paula, beaming. “I just wanted to see if it worked.”
Eleanor’s eye twitched with anger.
“As you were, Pippy,” said Tom. “Wait in the corner until you’re summoned.”
Eleanor took a breath and strode proudly toward the corner.
Just keep your shit together, she told herself. Don’t let them bait you.
“How did that go?” Tom asked Paula.
“Hmm,” said Paula, wickedly. “She could have addressed me with more respect. Maybe called me ‘Miss’ or ‘Ma’am’?”
“A fair point,” said Tom. “Please note it down.”
The demerit was recorded.
“Paula makes a good point. How would everyone like Pippy to address them?” said Tom.
The women each stated their preference: Miss, Madam, Ma’am… Sabrina jokingly suggested ‘My Lady’ for herself, and Tom nodded approvingly.
“Have you got all those?” Tom asked Eleanor, who was frantically noting down the terms on a little pad.
Who were these women, and what did they have against maids? They may not have known who they were tormenting, but she was making a note. She would expose the lot of them when all this was over.
The food was serve-yourself, and everyone tucked in, but the guests couldn’t resist ringing their little bells to ask Pippy for tiny, annoying things:
I’ve dropped my fork. Could you bring me a new one?
Could I have another serviette?
Do you have any orange juice?
I’d love a top-up.
Oh dear, I’ve spilled my water…
Could you take this rubbish away?
It was hard to work out whose bell was whose, and even when she guessed correctly, Eleanor usually forgot to use the woman’s preferred address.Each time she jogged to the place she thought was ringing, her tits almost bobbing out of her bodice, she felt the plug lodged in her bottom move. This prompted more wetness in her frilly knickers, until she was worried it might run down her leg.
The demerit book began to fill, and each time, Eleanor grew more angry at the injustice of the rigged game.
Finally, Sabrina rang one too many times, and Eleanor ignored her.
“Uh, Pippy?”called Tom.
“NO,” barked Eleanor. “I’m tired.”
There was a nervous chuckle among the women.
“Pippy, please go and assist Sabrina,” Tom warned.
“Whatever it is, she can do it herself.”
“I see,” said Tom. “Sabrina, could you pass me the demerit book?”
“Oh, I’m so scared,” said Eleanor. “You’re going to write me up.”
Tom ran his finger down the pages, counting to himself.
“Pippy, I have to apologise,” he said. “I’ve missed something.”
Eleanor frowned. What did he mean, apologising to her when she’d just been so rude?
Tom showed the book to the assembled women.
“I forgot to keep count of Pippy’s demerits, ladies,” he said. “As you know, there are various thresholds for punishment: 10, 20, 50… Well, we’ve reached 47 demerits tonight and Pippy hasn’t been informed.”
“Informed of what?”
“Sorry, I mean informed in the Pretty Maids parlance,” said Tom, and Eleanor suddenly realised what he meant.
“No,” she said quietly, backing away.
“Yes, Pippy,” said Tom. “We’ve had quiet enough of your superior attitude and sloppy conduct. You need to be thoroughly informed in order to improve.”
Eleanor continued retreating, tottering backward on her bimbo heels, and the women began to giggle.
“And Pippy,” said Tom, “I just remembered that those 47 demerits should be added to others you’ve had from me, so we are past the 50 mark. Someone is due for a sound spanking.”
“What? NO!” Eleanor put out her hands to push Tom away, but he whipped out a pair of silver cuffs and clicked them onto her wrists. She shrieked, but in one practised movement, he locked the cuffs to her collar, so she had to hold her hands high, as though she were doing a bunny impression.
“Let me GO!” she shouted, her elbows flapping pathetically as the tiny silver chains on her collar jingled.
“Can we clear a place at the table?” Tom asked the board.
Paula moved the plate and cutlery in the empty spot, and Tom pushed Eleanor firmly forward, so her forearms were flat on the table and her head nearly on the cloth.
“Please don’t let the food get cold, ladies,” he said. “I’ll just see to this and then I’ll join you.”
He flipped up Eleanor’s skirt to a chorus of hoots from the board. She began to screech and swear. He produced a chewy ball gag and forced it into her foul mouth, muffling her words.
“MMPPPHHH!” she raged, unable to push herself back upright.
“Aww, those ruffled panties are too cute,” gushed one woman.
“I’m afraid they’re coming down,” said Tom, exposing Eleanor’s bare bottom like she was a naughty child.
“Now then, Pippy,” he said. “Take your spanking like a big girl. Ten hard swats should clear your demerits for now.”
The women laughed at the prospect, and one cheered.
Tom produced a wooden spoon and brought it down on her backside. SWAT.
“MMMMPPPPPHHHH!” Eleanor wriggled but Tom’s hand on the flat of her back kept her in position.
“That’s one.”
SWAT.
“NNNHHHH!” The sting was ferocious and Eleanor’s heels flew into the air.
SWAT. SWAT. SWAT.
“That’s five. Halfway there, so stop squirming.”
SWAT. SWAT. SWAT.
“NMMMMMHHH!” Eleanor kicked and wriggled at the biting spoon, her red bottom bucking for the amusement of the guests.
SWAT.
“That’s nine.”
SWAT.
“NPPHHHH!!!!”
Eleanor flailed and wailed, trying to process the pain.
Just then, Dao stood up and noticed with dismay that she had olive oil on her skirt.
“It’s all over!” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Mine too!” said Paula. “She’s put olive oil on the seats, Tom!”
“BACK DOWN,” said Tom, and pinned ‘Pippy’ back down for a fresh volley of swats, during which she sobbed and sniffled, kicking the air helplessly.
Finally, Tom pulled up her knickers, leaving a halo of red beneath the cheeks. Then he unclipped her handcuffs from the collar and removed the bracelets. Finally, he reached for her gag, but paused.
“If I take this out, are you going to show my guests a little more respect? Are you going to do your best for them?”
Eleanor nodded, livid at the humiliation. She smoothed down her prissy little skirt and tried not to look at the board members.
“Good girl.”
He took out the ball gag and Eleanor was dismayed to find she had dribbled down her cheek during her spanking.
For a moment, she kept her word and said nothing. Then everyone burst out laughing at her outraged expression. Eleanor lost it.
“You! All of you! Call yourself feminists, do you?” She jabbed a finger at each of the guests in turn. “None of you snooty bitches is prepared to speak up for me.”
The laughter stopped. Tom went to stop Eleanor, but Mary signalled for him to let the maid speak.
“Why is nobody here ashamed to watch a man spank his employee in front of them? You’re fine with abusing power, aren’t you? As long as it’s you on top, with the blue-collar women suffering. Oh yes, a fine fucking board you lot will make.”
There was a tense silence, then Tom moved toward Eleanor and bent down to retrieve something. Wordlessly, he handed her her white mob cap.
Eleanor froze, reaching up to find her trademark mane had come gloriously loose. She shoved it back on her head and began stuffing her curls back inside the cotton.
“Don’t worry,” said Mary. “The disguise was pointless anyway.”
Eleanor’s blood turned to ice. She looked at Tom.
“You! You told them!”
“No, I didn’t,” said Tom. “But clearly the new board worked it out very quickly.”
“You have quite a few signature movements,” said Dao. “Besides, we know everyone at Pretty Maids and we’d never met you.”
“That’s nonsensical. Why would board members meet the maids anyway?” Eleanor barked, her cheeks flaming. She undid her stifling mask, tossing it into the corner.
“The same reason we weren’t shocked at your spanking,” said Mary. “And the reason we are the ideal people to be on the new board: every one of us is a former Pretty Maid.”
Eleanor gulped. “A-all of you?”
“All of us,” said Sabrina. “It certainly is nice to meet you at last, Boss. Or should I say, Pippy?”
She jingled her bell mockingly.