John returned to room 212 at Hotel Regina both horny and frustrated. An entire evening drinking with his colleagues Michelle and Laura and he'd got absolutely nowhere. When he showered and changed five hours ago he had fully expected to be smashing one of them, either of them, in his room by the end of the night. Michelle was stunningly good-looking, and fuck didn't she know it; long blond hair and fuck me eyes. In complete contrast to the line manager Laura. Cold, severe, hair wound tightly in a neat bun. But something in the way she looked at John drove his cock mad, like a disapproving headmistress all the boys secretly wanted to bend over and screw.
As he stumbled into his room John stripped naked and fell onto the bed. Turning to face the ceiling he prepared to wank furiously over the two bitches but found the heavy session of drinking quickly taking its effect. Abandoning any dwindling intention to read the notes for tomorrow's conference that his long-suffering female secretary had prepared for him, John succumbed to sleep.
10:15 am the next day and Hotel Regina's maid Miranda entered room 212 in a hurry. She was behind her schedule and her boss Tanya cared little for excuses. Her meagre wages were docked for lost time. Making her way into the bedroom, Miranda was dumbstruck by the sight before her. Sprawled on the bed was a handsome young man, stark naked. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his large, thick penis but it was his face that truly shocked her.
John Wenton. A myriad of long-buried memories hit her hard. It was definitely him. The boy who had tormented her for years. The young jock who had made her high school days a living hell. The bully responsible for countless nights of crying. Back then she had been something of a plain girl. And her Spanish heritage and difficulty with the English language had left her unable to respond to John's cruel jokes in front of his gathered army of eager followers.
Miranda was overcome with fear. It was seven years since school and hear she was, reduced to a quivering wreck. Miranda felt her eyes filling with tears. She blinked hard and discovered a new emotion. ANGER. Uncontrollable rage. He had never been made to account for his torment of her. He had clearly done well from the fancy suits hung up on the wardrobe. And hear she was, twenty-five years old and a cleaner with no prospect of advancement. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair!
He must be punished somehow. And hear he was, totally at her mercy. Ideas rushed through her dizzying head. What could she do to him? At that moment her phone bleeped. That was it! She could immortalise his vulnerability forever, the pictures would provide her with a constant victory over him whenever she wanted to look at them!
For the next five minutes, Miranda went about her task with a wicked smile. She captured his naked state at every angle. Close-ups of his thick cock, wide-shots getting his face and identity in for perpetuity. Taken, then uploaded to her cloud. She had done it. And yet she felt unsatisfied. It was a private victory, he would be none the wiser, his ego never brought down for his crimes against her. He had to know.
Briefly leaving the room to go to her cleaning trolley, Miranda returned to John's room with a bucket of dirty water she had used for cleaning. Marching straight up to the bed without hesitation Miranda threw the water over John. He shot up, responding with anger and frenzy - his head was pounding, his eyes were stinging and he was covered with freezing water. He just caught sight of a blurred figure at the bottom of the bed before receiving a hard slap across the face. The shock and power of the slap knocked him aside and off the bed.
"What the fuck!" John stammered. He was on the floor and looked up just in time to see another hand come down to hit him square on the face. Miranda was taken aback be her actions. He was far bigger and stronger than her, and yet hear he was, the tormenter, reeling desperately on the floor. He had to know.
"Remember!" She screamed. Choking on the word, overcome with raw anger to utter anything else. She raised her hand again but held it above him. She would have his response. John was shell-shocked by this awakening, his raised his head and desperately tried to clear his eyes.
"M..Miranda?" Surely this couldn't be that Spanish bitch from all those years ago? That girl had been mousy and pathetic. But this girl was a beauty. Long, silky brown hair, tanned skin and a figure to die for. She had a fire in her eyes and that raised hand threatened another stinging humiliation. Yet not one to cower from a fight, John quickly regained his composure and dared to get up and stand before her, boldly presenting his muscular, naked body before this little bitch.
"You're going to pay for this you stupid Spanish slut!" John stood tall in front of her, easily overbearing her small fragile, female frame. And yet she didn't move. She stood there defiant. Suddenly John, always so confident in the face of women, felt a twinge of doubt. She stood there with a face of fire while he was completely naked, his once-proud penis shrivelled from the freezing water, his head buzzing from the drinking and the slaps.
Regaining her composure, Miranda took out her phone and held it aloft.
"Every part of you. All on here. I think the school alumni facebook page could do with a LITTLE upgrade of your looks."
John was filled with rage, stumbling forward he tried to grab the phone. But Miranda was ready. Raising her knee his balls went straight into it. With John doubled up, clutching his hurt balls, Miranda completed her victory. Sitting down on the bed, she simply pulled his arm across her, resulting in his naked and stunned body crashing upon her lap.
Feeling his cock on the inside of her legs, Miranda quickly and violently snapped her legs shut. John's agonising howl was the sound of victory. She had done it! The high school jock lied prostrated across her knees, his vulnerable cock clamped between them, she had done it!
Filled with exhilaration, Miranda decided she would have that joyful feeling again. Opening her knees, then smashing them in again, just to make sure John really got it. He whimpered as his all so mighty macho pride was crushed between her feminine knees, the pain was unbearable.
"Do you get it now? It's your turn to do WHAT I SAY!" Miranda screamed, flushed with feeling. Her cheeks with burning, she couldn't quite believe she had him like this.
And yet John resisted.
"Fuck you, you Spanish slut!" He cried in desperation.
Miranda couldn't fathom it. She had him! Why wouldn't he submit?! Violent passion overcame her, raising her hand, she hit him hard.
Spanking his defenceless arse again, again again and again. He would submit to her! His cries were so loud Miranda thought the next door rooms must surely be hearing all this.
Quickly, Miranda's hand tired. She had never hit anyone before today. Trying to appear authoritive, she tried to breathe and say slowly; "you will submit to me."
"Fuck off" John spat. He detected she had tired. Soon enough he would turn her over and fuck her hard in the arse for this.
But it was John who was turned over. Flipped over, with his dick now lying limply on his toned chest, Miranda held her hand aloft and looked silently down into John's eyes. John tried desperately to raise himself, but it was to no avail. He strained to look up at Miranda, hand aloft, eyes trained on him. He felt pure terror.
"right...ok" He choked upon the words.
"You do what I say now." Miranda said. Calm, assured.
