This story is under construction, and may change, but feel free to read it anyway!
In the beautiful county of Derbyshire in England is an area of outstanding beauty, a National Park, called ‘The Peak District’. Many beautiful villages, glorious dales, and stunning countryside are everywhere to be found, and people come from all over the world come to see it. Two such people are Charlotte and Amber, two friends from the U.S.A. who have hired a vintage car to tour the area in style.
A week ago, Kate, the lady who owned the vintage cars and ran her own business from her large country home had waved them off in their Rover feeling quite envious of their tour to come.
The national park still holds many secrets in the lesser known parts, such as the northern area, known as ‘The Dark Peak’.
Up here are the moors and peat bogs, often shrouded in mist, where the haunting call of the curlew is a common noise on the wing.
It is here that a collection of villages threw up names that only England could. First, in the Doomsday Book was the pretty upland village of Cum Leigh, soon to be shortened to Cumley. After that there arose other villages, related to this lovely place , those of Upper and Lower Cumley. Then later came a little hamlet, Cumley Bottom, and above this small honey coloured stone collection of stout houses stood the home of the local Squire. It was called Cumley Bottom Hall.
In 1845 there was a great scandal. It came about that the squire at that time squandered a great deal of his wealth on the pleasures of the flesh, with his ‘Upturned Rump Society’ gaining great notoriety throughout England.
Here we should deliberate a little, he was the Squire, yet many people voiced opinions on whether or not he was a man at all, he wore women’s clothes at times, and maybe that was all there was to it. He died of madness induced by Venereal Disease, I suppose the undertaker knew for sure what sex he was! He is still known to this day in the area as ‘The Squire-ess’.
When he died he left debts, but slowly the family grew, and flourished once again. It is said that the old Hall is haunted by the squire, and that the ‘Upturned Rump Society’ still exists. It is run by a descendant of the family, a tall strict looking lady, who often wears black, and a Victorian style of clothing. Her name is Victoria.
It was one September evening, a misty damp evening to be precise, when the paths of the two American tourists, the old hall, and Victoria were all drawn together.
The vintage car came to a shuddering halt, it was late and the girl’s phones had no signal. In the distance was a building, a large stone building, and the lights were on. They grabbed a few things and threw them in a rucksack, locked the car and walked up Cumley Lane. Rooks called out in the cold autumnal air, as darkness fell quickly They saw the sign, ‘Cumley Bottom Hall’, and Amber smacked her own bottom and said, “Just right for our bottoms then! lets see if they have anywhere to rest them. shall we?”
They crunched up the gravel path, Amber first and the more cautious Charlotte behind, looking around tentatively. They approached a stout oak door, to pull a bell that looked as if it was straight from a Dicken’s Novel.
They looked at each other as they heard footsteps approach.
The door was opened by a tall severe looking, slender woman in her early sixties, she listened to their tale and invited them in. The house was warm, well lit, and welcoming. English hospitality at its best they thought.
An evening meal was provided by the gracious lady, over which they recounted their worried feelings when the car had broken down, and how pleased they were to find such a place so welcoming. As they ate a hot pudding and custard, the lady, whom they now knew as Victoria, went to light fires in two of the guest rooms in the east wing. The Red Room, and The Brown Room.
“She’s a bit wierd, but I think we have landed on our feet.” Said Amber.
Charlotte nodded in agreement, not being quite so sure.
It began to rain hard, and it rattled against the mullioned windows as they ate desert.
Tired and ready for sleep the girls were shown into their own rooms and before half an hour was gone, they were asleep.
Victoria had gone to her own room, to change…
And I don’t mean her clothes.
On the landing was a grandfather clock, ticking slowly and loudly. As it struck one, Charlotte awoke with a start, and switched on the light, which illuminated the red room she had been given. She remembered noticing a strange picture above the bed before she climbed in, and recalled that she did not like it very much. As she looked around the room she had a strange feeling of being looked at, slowly she turned to look at the face in the painting, and said ‘What are you looking at?’
The house was full of passages, many of them secret, and one such passage ran along two sides of her room. There looking through two small holes in the eyes of the picture was Victoria, in the guise of the mad squire.
She shut her eyes and drew back from the peep holes, shutting the little openings and closing the curtains which lined the passageway walls. She drew her stick up as if she was to deliver a whack to an upturned rump.
Very quietly she answered..
She let the stick fall quickly with a swish.
Charlotte heard it, “What the fuck was that?”
She looked around the room, feeling a little more than worried, yet at the same time sleepy. Slumber found her easily, and without realising it ever happened, she slumped down on to the bed again.
Before she knew it she was sat up again, the clock chimed three. She looked down at herself, and her attire, she realised she was dressed in bloomers and a beautiful Victorian dress, akin to a wedding gown. But strangely, it did not bother her at all, it felt quite natural to be dressed so, and no worry of how she had become dressed as such crossed her mind.
This time she felt at ease, and although she still felt the picture was looking at her, she became aware of a feeling of pleasure, as if she wanted to please the strange face in the picture.
The room felt inviting and warm. She began to feel naughty, and wanton as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked at herself as a man might, and liked what she saw. She felt haughty.
She wanted to see herself be naughty too, not only did she want to please the strange painting, but also she wanted to please her imaginary ‘man in the mirror’. Before long her bloomers were sliding down.
She began to masturbate, and never had her pussy felt so divine to touch, neither had it responded so well.
Her first orgasm of the night shuddered through her loins as she let out a deep sort of growl.
Looking through the eyes of the picture, Victoria looked on, herself masturbating to her first orgasm of the night. Both came together.
Victoria whispered, ‘Well done my beauty.’
Without knowing she had done so, Charlotte replied. “Thank you Mistress.”
She lay on her back, her pussy throbbing and twitching delightfully, and as the painting looked down, she fell asleep, bloomers to mid thigh.
But the spectre of the past had not finished with Charlotte, not by any means. The girl slowly drifted to sleep, and awoke when the clock struck four.
Her bloomers were still down, beside her on the bed was a very vintage looking slender walking stick and a riding crop, the picture whispered and she obeyed, present your bottom to the mirror, show me your upturned rump…
The words seemed to echo in her mind…’upturned rump…upturned rump…’
She slid to the edge of the bed, positioned herself so that her bottom was in the middle of the mirror and bent over, the ghostly figure watched once more through the peep holes, her position was perfect, she could now see her face and her bottom at the same time.
The picture was pleased with what is saw…
Very pleased indeed, and it began to rub its own moistness again.
Charlotte could hear the familiar wet ‘click click clik’ of fingers in wet pussy lips, which were sticking together during masturbation, the smell of female moistness, both hers and the pictures gushed over her, she wanted to please the picture more than anything in the world.
She reached over for the slender dark vintage cane, and held it hard against her bottom.
“How does that feel on your upturned rump my dear?”
“Sexy, cold, frightening Mistress…I mean…Master? I find it exciting Mistress Picture.”
The Mistress in the picture spoke in Charlotte’s mind again, “Climb on the bed, remove your dress.”
She did so, and in her bloomers she climbed up on the inviting, soft, red four poster bed, to settle before the face in the painting,
…the strange yet enticing face in the painting.
“Delight me with your bottom girl!”
Without question she began to remove her bloomers from her bottom again, to bare it, and show it.
Ohhh the voice was so commanding, she wanted to obey, and submit to it so very, very much. She wanted to show her bottom and pussy to her new, yet vintage, Mistress.
“Look at my bottom Mistress, look at my pussy lips, do they please you?”
She could hear the wet squelch of fast cunt rubbing, along with slight groans getting closer and closer together.
Quickly Charlotte rolled onto her tummy and began to buck her bottom up and down to please her watcher.
Her fingers moved to her own pussy and began to finger that dripping cunt wildly as she bucked…
She came again, harder than the first time, but she could hear that the picture had not cum itself yet.
“Show me your dripping wet cunt you slut”
“On your knees bitch, rub the crop against your cunt!”
She obeyed willingly, wantonly, sluttily…
The shaft of the crop slid easily between her lips and she began to buck again, and to her delight another orgasm teetered on the brink of her lips.
“Now thrash that upturned rump until you come…thrash it, thrash it!”
Charlotte whacked her bottom harder and harder, faster and faster until they both came hard together.
Charlotte fell quietly into a deep post orgasmic slumber without even realising she had done so again. Victoria closed the peep holes on the odd little picture and drew the curtains over it. She walked down the secret passage to open another set of peep holes in a painting of a Saint, to look at Amber as she slept.
“Charlotte, come hither, find your dear friend, she wants you, she really wants you.” Spoke the Squire-ess to her new submissive.
A smile spread across Charlotte’s face as she arose from her slumber and her bed, to open her door, and walk quietly to Amber’s room. She put her hand on the octagonal polished brass knob and turned it, the door opened slowly with a low creak, she began to walk deftly, almost as she was floating above the thick pile of the carpet, and then to climb into her bed, where she once more fell asleep.
“Amber, listen to me my dear little pet. Entice your friend, she wants you badly, entice her with your upturned rump…upturned rump…upturned rump.”
Amber stirred, turned to the picture, and looked into Victoria’s eyes as she silkily moved the cover to reveal her bottom. “Yes Mistress, I want her too. I will.”
Gently she awoke her friend. “Charlotte, you have just climbed into my bed, you have been sleep walking. But don’t go, I like you here, lets sleep together, would you like that?”
Charlotte giggled at what she had done. The two girls laughed like two schoolgirls having a midnight feast in a school dormitory. “Yes I would love to stay.”
She settled down almost immediately to return to her slumber.
Soon afterwards Amber rested her head on her goose feather pillow, and joined her in sleep.
Victoria looked on, her pussy once more feeling moist and slippery.
The clock struck again, but this time differently, almost a tune like church bells, as if to signify something, something different, and definitely not the time.
Not knowing what time it was, Charlotte awoke again, and was once more consumed with desire. It was her friends bottom that allured her, it was so close to her thigh as they lay, her cheek softly pushed against her.
Amber, now awake again, smiled at the picture and pushed her bottom further towards her friend. She wanted to please the Saint, just as Charlotte had wanted to please the picture in the red room.
Charlotte looked at her friend and thinking her still asleep, she gently and slowly pulled the covers down. Amber felt the cool early morning air upon her cheeks.
Charlotte placed one hand on her own pussy, and one hand on Amber’s bottom. She gently squeezed the soft ripe flesh of her buttock, and played gently with her moistness. The Squire-ess looked on hungrily and eagerly as two more brides of Cumley Bottom Hall were enticed beyond redemption.
The smoothness of Amber’s bottom was softer than her goose down pillow, it invited caress. Charlotte was lost in the spell of her friends ‘cumley bottom’.
Charlotte orgasmed, and Amber turned to her. “You are a naughty girl Charlotte, playing with my bottom and masturbating.”
Charlotte looked a little worried, “Awww, I’m sorry.”
Amber laughed. “Don’t be silly, I loved it! But I need to cum now, badly. Then young lady, you will find out what naughty girls get!”
They kissed and embraced, love filled the air of the delightful ‘brown room’.
So too did the sound of orgasms.
“Now then naughty girl, get out of bed, and bend over that chair, I am going to spank your upturned rump.”
The spirit began to run like black liquid out of the eyes of the saint, and over the bed covers, to climb the draped of the four poster bed. It hung their wand watched their spanking.
A new sound now filled the room, the sound of a palm striking a soft rounded rump.
A whisper, so delicate, fluttered like a moth from the dark entity hanging on the old thick material, to enter their minds.
Charlotte looked to Amber. Daylight sent shafts of light through the curtains, they could hear bird call. “I am in no rush to leave here, are you? I could stay here forever.”
The black guardian of Cumley Bottom Hall said gently. “And so it will be my dears, my two knew brides of Cumley Bottom Hall”.
The clock struck again, similar to a Westminster Chime, to signify the arrival of the two new spanking spirits.
Amber listened to the whisper. “Find me another, I need more, can you do that?”
She looked to Charlotte and said. “Yes, let’s stay a while if we can, shall we call kate and tell her to come for the car?”
The old style phone surprised and amused them. They were not at all surprised to hear an old fashioned crisp English operator’s voice ask them the number they wanted, and then speak to Kate. ”
Kate looked bemused at her mobile, the voice sounded like something from a black and white movie. “Putting you through now, stay on the line…beeep.”
Soon the tale of the Rover’s sad demise and of their good fortune in finding Cumley Bottom Hall, with the lovely Victoria was narrated, and Kate agreed to set off that very day, to fetch the car and ‘sort things out’.
She got in her car and drove over the moors to find the place she had never heard of. It was late afternoon when she arrived. What on earth was going on? The place was just a ramshackle pile of stones, an empty shell, a Gothic ruin.
She began to explore. The place seemed so interesting, so vital and alive despite its appearance. It almost invited her in.
Within a few minutes the voices started, and the bells like wedding bells on a happy day somehow began to draw closer and louder.
Surely that was Charlotte…”Kate..Kate!”
She turned but saw nothing, only the grass rustling in the wind, but then came Amber’s voice, accompanied by a giggle. “Kate, we can see you!”