Falsely accused, a servant finally gets revenge

By Jo Green

Mary worked as a maid in a large country retreat hotel frequented by the rich, famous and usually obnoxious in society. She left college with poor A-level results and had struggled to find work, until eventually through a friend of a friend, getting taken on at ‘The Manor’.

After 3 years working in the kitchens, she was moved when a vacancy opened up in the housekeeping department. The pay was still rubbish, but at least some guests left the occasional tip. Rarely was this a substantiation amount; one film star had tipped her £200 just for servicing the room. On the flip side, some prima-donners would demand the earth of her, talk to her like scum, and threaten to get her sacked if she even spoke to them without being asked to do so.

‘The Manor’ had 25 suites, a huge dining room, two bars and a golf course open to members, guests and the rich and famous.

After a very, very busy Christmas and New Year season at ‘The Manor’, January was a time for maintenance and catching up on tasks that could not be done the previous month. All the staff were busy in their respective departments, and the hotel was only hosting 3 guests on a cold, bleak January afternoon. Then, without booking, a guest arrived in a top of the range sports car, sliding to a halt in a very unnecessary way on the gravel area outside of the main entrance.

Everyone who saw the arrival sighed. It was Mrs Warburton. She was a slim, 26-year- old gold digger from America who had married the heir to the Warburton travel agent empire 3 years ago and had been an irregular guest during that time. As usual with such ‘new money’ guests, they are very in your face and self-opinionated. As there was only one available suite due to the decorating programme, Mary knew she was going to be looking after this lady and she sighed in a very resigned way.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Warburton. So very nice to have the pleasure of serving you once again,” Mary greeted the gold digger in a friendly and efficient manner as she always did.

“Oh, it’s you again. Take my bags to my room and don’t scratch any of them, they cost £2,000 a piece,” came the terse response.

“Straight away, madam, with my best care and attention,” Mary responded brightly, but underneath wanted to punch her lights out for her, and smiled dutifully.

Moments later, Mary showed Mrs Warburton into her suite and set her cases down on the luggage rack inside the door.

“May I assist you in unpacking, madam?”

“No, you may not. I don’t want your filthy paw-prints over my silks. Now, get the manager, this room will not do,” she demanded.

“I am sorry, madam, but this is literally the only suite available right now. Mr Burrows, the owner of ‘The Manor’ has engaged renovators to bring all our suites up to date before the spring season. Five, including this one, were redecorated in November, and the rest will be back available at the end of the month. If we had known that such a distinguished guest was coming, madam, I am sure Mr Burrows would personally have seen to it that you had the finished accommodation you wanted, but unfortunately we were not able to make such an arrangement considering we did not know of your welcome arrival until just now.”

If nothing else, Mary had learned how to placate the rich in her time at ‘The Manor’.

The afternoon passed quickly, and soon the guests and diners were making their way to the large restaurant. This gave Mary the opportunity to finish her last jobs of the evening. She now had to do the turn-down service and refresh the towels in the 5 suites before the guests arrived back to their rooms. Why someone can’t go to bed without having the bedding turned down by 18 inches had always bewildered Mary, but there you go. In the end, there were only 4 rooms to service as Mr and Mrs Bonnington were already in bed, from the sounds of it as Mary stood about to knock on the door. She laughed to herself and pushed her trolley silently on as the sounds faded behind her.

Mary lived in at ‘The Manor’, which was a mixed blessing. It took 30 seconds to get home, but anyone could call you at a moment’s notice, which did happen occasionally, especially if they were hosting a large wedding or a shooting party. Mary turned in and had a good night’s sleep, waking next morning at 6.30 as her alarm went off. She was back at work by 7.00 am.

Vacuuming, dusting and tidying all the communal areas before servicing the rooms began as guests left for the day or checked out. Mary was hard at work when she heard a cough behind her and, turning, saw Mr Burrows standing, red in the face, behind her.

“Good morning to you, Mr Burrows. A much nicer day outside today, sir,” commended Mary as she brushed a little dust off the short hem of her black dress with white trim, which was standard female uniform at ‘The Manor’.

“Stuff the weather, girl. What has been going on?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mary responded with a very confused tone in her voice. “But with respect, sir, I have no idea what you are referring to, sir.”

I have had a complaint from Mrs Warburton regarding your actions in her room last evening, and I intend to get to the bottom of this, one way or another!”

Mary stood baffled, but felt at this stage she could not ask too many questions, especially as she was in a public area.

“May I suggest we take this up in your office, sir?” Mary proffered.

“Indeed we will, young lady, and if I do not get the answers I am waiting for, you will be out of the door faster than I can say, ‘you are fired!’ Do I make myself understood, Mary?” he said forcefully, but whilst hardly raising his voice.

Mary was worried now. Mr Burrows had a certain reputation amongst the staff, particularly the female members, with whom he did not follow the conventional grievance procedures. For instance, Emily, the lady Mary replaced in housekeeping, accidentally threw away an ear ring which had been caught in a duster whilst she was servicing the room. She was given an ultimatum; she could either take a spanking from him, or leave. She had already been offered another job at a hotel down the road, so she quite literally stuck two fingers up to him, called him a pig, and left. Mary was in no such position. She had nowhere to live, precious little by way of savings, and she and her mum did not speak, and she would not be welcome in the family home, should it come to that.

Entering Mr Burrow’s office, he closed the door, offered Mary a seat, poured himself a Scotch, at 10.30 in the morning, and sat down behind his large, dark mahogany desk and scowled at Mary.

“So sir, what appears to be Mrs Warburton’s issue with me?” Mary asked directly, catching him off-guard.

Regaining his thread, Mr Burrows said, “It appears certain items of an intimate nature have gone missing from Mrs Warburton’s possessions, and items of clothing are also missing. Can you tell me what you know about this, Mary. I want the truth, though,” he said with a menace in his tone.

“Sir, I know absolutely nothing. Last evening, I serviced the first two suites, missed the Bonnington’s suite, then…”

“Why did you miss suite 15, Mary?” Mr Burrows demanded.

“Because, sir, to put it bluntly, they were in the middle of a quite noisy session of love-making, sir,” Mary stated without sugar coating the sentence more than she needed to, which amused her and made Mr Burrows blush slightly.

“Moving on, what happened next?” he continued.

“Then I serviced Mrs Warburton’s suite, changed the towels, turned down the bed after carefully moving her night robe which was at the head of the bed, tidied the magazines, checked the bathroom and left to service the final suite at the end of the corridor.” Mary explained.

“Yes, yes. But what about the items in the night stand and her silk underwear?” he questioned further.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. I did not need to go in the night stand. We only do that in vacant rooms to ensure guests have not left anything behind. As for underwear, sir, I do not recall seeing any. You will understand, however, it is not unusual to do so. It would not have particularly registered if I had, but I am pretty certain I did not, sir,” she concluded.

“Much as I like you, Mary, a regular guest has made an accusation. You were the only member of staff to visit her suite. Items have gone missing, so I am sure you can see how this looks for you. I have persuaded Mrs Warburton to keep the police out of it but she is insisting action be taken swiftly and decisively,” Mr Burrows said in a menacing way.

Mary had an idea what was coming; it was Emily all over again. “What are you saying, Mr Burrows? Am I to be dismissed?”

“That would seem the usual logical action, would it not, Mary? However, I like you, you work hard and the guests generally like you too, so I really would prefer not to lose you if it can be avoided. However, I cannot allow this to go unpunished, can I?” He paused for dramatic effect. “I am willing, on this occasion, to offer an alternative as unconventional punishment for what has happened. I will take you off housekeeping duties whilst Mrs Warburton is staying with us. She leaves in the morning, by the way. However, you will also receive a dose of corporal punishment in a bid to make sure nothing like this ever happens here again.”

Mary had long since decided that should this ‘Emily’ scenario ever arise, and Mary heard rumours Emily was not the only one to be offered this instead of dismissal, that she would take it on the chin, or rather the bum, and move on as she had very few other options available. However, Mary did not respond immediately and decided to wait for him to make the next move.

“Well Mary, what is it to be, girl?” There, he has asked me again.

“Well sir, this is an unexpected decision that I am being forced to make, but I cannot afford to lose his job,” Mary said, moving from foot to foot.

Although she had played this scenario through several times in her mind, having heard the story of Emily from a colleague, she still couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Mary had two thoughts. She was concerned if she said no she would lose her job, but if she said yes she would have to agree to being spanked by her boss. She knew she had no real option, and decided to make the best of it she could.

“Very well, sir, I will take your punishment, if that is an end to it, sir. I still deny this has anything to do with me and I protest my innocence.”

“Noted, Mary, but I think you have made a wise choice. Now, shall we get this over with and get on with our day, Mary?”

Mary nodded and fiddled with the hem of her dress, unsure of what was about to happen, other than it was going to hurt.

“Stand up, please Mary.”

He took the chair Mary had been sitting on and moved it a little way away from the desk, and then turned it around to face the door. He then walked to the window and turned the vertical blinds so no one outside could witness Mary’s forthcoming spanking. He then strode 6 or 7 paces back to the chair, hitched up his trouser legs and sat down.

“Come here, please, my dear,” he said gently. “And bend over my lap, please.”

Mary had not had her bottom spanked since her mother last did this when she was about 14 or 15 years old, but she did not need a sketch drawing to remind her. Reaching over him, Mary lowered herself slowly, placing her hand out in front, which she placed firmly on the floor in front of her. Her bottom, she imagined, would be well presented in this position for the spanking that Mr Burrows was clearly looking forward to.

After she had settled, Mary felt her dress being slid up and over her bottom, exposing the black lace frilly panties that she was wearing. These were very thin indeed, and were almost see-through, giving Mr Burrows a perfect view of the well-rounded bottom onto which he would be applying his hand at any moment.

“Now Mary, be brave. This will not take long, then you may retire to your room for the rest of the day.”

After another few seconds just admiring the view in front of him, he began slapping Mary’s bottom firmly but slowly at first. Mary flinched at the first contact, and again as his hand came crashing down again, more in shock than pain. He settled down to a slow, steady rhythm which was very different to the rapid machine gun-like spankings she was used to from her mother. Though she did want to think it, Mary soon realised that while it did sting quite a bit, part of her was actually enjoying the experience.

When, a couple of minutes later, Mr Burrows said, “Thank you, Mary, you have taken that very well. You may get up and straighten yourself up,” she was slightly sorry that it had not gone on for a little longer, or was that just the blood rushing to her head?

She straightened her dress and gave her bottom a quick, gentle rub. Looking in the mirror, her face was bright red and burning more than her bottom seemed to be. She was glad she had chosen this rather than the sack.

“Alright, Mary, you may go to your room now,” he said kindly.

Mary left the office and, using the back stairs, went towards the staff accommodation in the east wing. At the bottom of the staircase was the security office.

“Hello, Trevor,” she said to the duty security man. Then she stopped and popped her head inside the room.

“Trevor?”

“Yes, Mary? Oh, you look flushed. Do you want to sit down?” Trevor said warmly, glad of someone to talk to.

Mary touched her bottom without thinking.

“Err, no thank you, mate, but can I ask a favour?”

“You can ask,” he replied with a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Can I have a look at last night’s CCTV, please Trevor,” she asked in a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth sort of way.

“I shouldn’t, but is it important?” he enquired.

“Warburton has told Burrows she has lost some items and he’s blaming me for it,” she started to explain.

“Ahh, that explains the flushed cheeks. I assume it’s just not your face that is glowing,” he said knowingly.

Mary smirked and gently punched him in the shoulder.

“Yes, and no blabbing it around. If I find out you have told anyone, I’ll have our guts for garters.” Seeing Trevor straining his neck to look behind her, she cut in, “And no, you can’t have a look either,” she laughed. “I want to see if anyone else went in that room after me. I turned her down at about 7.15 or 7.20-ish.

“Sure thing, love. Let’s wind it back and fast-forward. Ah, that’s you. You leave at 7.24 and cross to the suite opposite.” Trevor moved the film forwards quickly. “8.00 pm, 9.00 pm, 9.30 pm, bingo! There’s Mrs Warburton, and who is that?” asked Trevor as Mrs Warburton and a male figure stumbled into the room together and shut the door. “I’m sure he’s not a guest.”

Checking other cameras, they saw the man had arrived at 9.20 and he and Mrs Warburton had met and kissed in the foyer, and he fondled her bottom for a few moments before retiring to her room, not leaving again until 2.00 am.

“Well, well, well, let’s take a closer look.” Trevor zoomed in on the image. “There! Look there, if I am not mistaken that is a piece of ladies underwear sticking out of his jacket pocket. And I do believe that is the missing piece of ‘personal property’ in his hand from the night stand,” he said, pointing at a ladies vibrator toy. “I think we have just proved your innocence, young lady. It’s a little too late for that lovely bottom of yours, but we should tell old Burrows straight away.”

Trevor made a call to Mr Burrows, who reviewed the footage and stood in silence for a moment or two.

“Well?” asked Mary.

“My poor dear, I am so, so sorry about this.”

“Sorry won’t un-spank me, will it?” she spat. “I assumed that before accusing me you had at least checked the facts. What is the point of CCTV if you are judge, jury and spanker? It’s alright, Trevor knows, before you say anything.”

“You are right, I can only apologise. I will go and have this out with Mrs Warburton straight away, though I am not sure what can be done,” he said.

“I do know, and I am coming with you. Trevor, can you down-load that onto your iPad and I’ll take it with us?” Mary asked.

“Yup, two ticks, just transferring. Done. Good luck, hun,” Trevor said with a grin as Mary’s wonderfully shaped bottom exited the door. How he envied Burrows right now, having gotten to spank that perfect posterior.

“Yes, what is it?” replied Mrs Warburton as Mr Burrows knocked on the door of the suite. “I have had enough upset for one day.”

“It is Mr Burrows, and I have news on your, er, stolen items, madam,” he replied.

As the door opened, Mrs Warburton added, “Good. I hope you had sacked that little thie…” She was cut short by the sight of Mary standing with Mr Burrows at the door. “What is she doing here?”

“Proving her innocence, actually,” Mary responded coldly. “In a rush for justice and to placate yet another stuck-up tart like you, I was given a choice of the sack or get my bottom spanked. I am not a gold digger like you and so it wasn’t much of a choice, but I took the spanking knowing full well I was innocent. However, just by asking security I have found this footage showing you and a man spending half the night together before he leaves at 2.00 am, and oh look,” she said in her best sarcastic voice. “What does he have with him? A pair of ladies silk panties and a bra, and oh, what is that, oh, it looks like a vibrator. From the night stand, was it? You make me sick!”

Mary could hear the silent applause of a non-existent audience in her mind as she waited for a response.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Mrs Warburton?”

“Well?” repeated Mr Burrows.

“Okay, it looks like I have been hasty, I admit. That was just a business meeting last night,” she started to explain, but was cut off by Mary.

“So you always snog and fondle each other before a business meeting, do you?”

“No, look, ” stammered Mrs Warburton. But it was no good. “I come here for relaxation. You are known for your, er, discretion, here. I am sure we can count on you to keep this between ourselves?” she asked.

“I am sure we can,” Mr Burros responded.

“Er, think again, Mrs Warburton,” Mary pitched in. “You waltz in here, act like I am not fit to be in the same room as you, you have an affair in your room and then try to get the police involved or me sacked. No, we cannot sweep this under the table. Mr Burrows, you can’t un-spank me, but I believe if anyone in this hotel deserves a trip over your knee, she does!”

“Oh be quiet, girl,” spat Mrs Warburton. “No one is interested in you or what you have to say.”

“I have your husband’s email address here, Mrs Warburton,” said Mary, reading it from a letter on the table. “I am sure Mr Warburton would love to learn what you have been up to.”

“Mary, you can’t do that. It is black mail,” said Mr Burrows, defending his guest.

“You pretty much blackmailed me into taking a spanking, Mr Burrows!”

“So, what do you want, young lady? Money, I suppose,” Mrs Warburton suggested.

“I’m not after money. All I want is justice; an eye for an eye, a spanking for a spanking.  And yes, I do want to witness it, thank you.” Mary found she was really enjoying herself now.

“You can’t be serious!” Mrs Warburton pleaded. “I am never, never coming here again!” she screamed.

“That’s right,” said Mr Burrows, much to the surprise and delight of Mary. “You are no longer welcome at ‘The Manor’. However, for the sake of your marriage, you still need to placate Mary here. Her suggestion would at least be discreet.”

Mrs Warburton appeared shocked. She desperately searched her mind for another way of appeasing the girl, but Mary had a determined look on her face and clearly was not going to be easily put off.

“Mrs Warburton, shall we put an end to this sorry episode?” Mr Burrows suggested.

Mrs Warburton was trapped in a tight corner, and she knew it. “Where do you want me?”

Mr Burrows motioned towards the writing desk. He pulled out the chair and hitched up his trousers as he sat down.

“If you would be so kind as to lay across my lap, I will administer justice for Mary.”

Mrs Warburton clearly could see the futility of resisting, and quietly proceeded to follow the instruction, slowly lowering herself across his lap, bottom standing proud in the air, ready for her spanking.

Unlike with Mary, he did not whip her skirt up, probably because, despite everything, she was still rich and influential, or maybe it was just the fact her skirt was calf-length. That said, when the spanking started Mary thought Burrows was certainly laying into her bottom far harder than he had hers, just 30 minutes before. Mrs Warburton kicked her legs wildly and tried in vain to cover her bottom with her hands to ward off the volley of very hard spanks that were raining down on her bottom. The lush furnishings and carpet deadened the sound but Mary enjoyed seeing every spank landing slap bang on target.

All too soon, from Mary’s perspective, the spanking finished and a clearly very angry Mrs Warburton stood up, wiped away a tear, grabbed her bags which she quickly stuffed her things into, and left for good.

“And good riddance!” Mr Burrows called after her.

Mary could not believe what she had just heard.

“Mary, I am so, so sorry about all this,” Mr Burrows told her. “It has taught me a lesson. Some of the guests are pigs and for too long I have turned a blind eye to how the staff are treated. That ends now.

“As for you, I am sorry again for the spanking. There is not much I can do to take it back, but I can make it up to you in other ways. I would like to offer to train you to become head of customer care. Mrs Jackson is retiring in July and I would like you to work with her, learn and take over. How does that sound?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank you, Mr Burrows.”

“Michael. Like Mrs Jackson, you may call me Michael when we are alone. Now run along. I seem to remember giving you the day off,” said Michael with a smile.

Michael Burrows had had a good morning. He had managed to spank the most beautiful bottom he had seen in years, spank the bottom of one of his least favourite guests, and told her never to come back. All that, and it was not even 11.30. Goodness only knows what the rest of the day had up its sleeve, but he was very keen to find out.

The End

© Jo Green 2021