The Haunting of Cumley Bottom Hall

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..

“You.”

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?”

“Good idea!”

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.”

“Hello?”

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!”

 

 

 

THE WALK OF SHAME

Time to settle down for another story, hope you like it!

A few months ago as a result of my wife’s brothers divorce, and him ‘going off to find himself!’ as he so nicely put it, we have ended up with his daughter Amy, staying with us.

We were happy to help and still are, but when Charlotte our daughter and her cousin Amy are together, trouble is never far away. We have grounded them, even over weekends. We have spanked them a couple of times but nothing seems to make the slightest bit of difference to their attitude.

It was a Thursday, and we were just sat looking at holiday brochures sipping tea when the phone rang.  It was Mrs Hallam, the Headmistress, informing us that both the girls had not been seen all week, and as the exams are coming up, they should not really be taking so much time off. It seems they have only put two full weeks in, over the last term!

I put the phone down and turned to my wife, to tell her the news, we felt so humiliated, we had no idea at all.

I looked at her exasperated after doing so. “That woman must think we are a couple of bloody idiots! What are we going to do Deborah?”

We sat down to discuss it.

We talked for ages and then Deborah set us on the right path by saying, “They are so ‘cocky’ with it, they need bringing down a peg or two, as well as a damn good spanking apiece, they need some humiliation, something to make them dread the punishment happening again!”

It struck me straight away. “I have it Deborah! Remember when we watched ‘Game of Thrones’ and they made her walk the streets in shame, what’s her name, Cercy? I reckon we spank them before school, and make them walk all the way with their bare bottoms on show!”

“Better than that, we can ring school, and tell Mrs Hallam, and request that if they get to school without their bottoms bare, she must thrash them with the cane, on the bare!”

“Brilliant, lets do it, and we won’t tell them what to expect, we can send them to bed and let the stew all night!”

So we rang the school and Mrs Hallam, who we knew was dying to lay that cane across their naughty bottoms, agreed whole heartedly. The plan was set, so we waited to spring it.

After a while we heard them giggling and walking up our driveway. So we got into a position we had discussed between us earlier and waited.

Bouncing through the door as if ‘butter would not melt’ they shouted a bright cheerful ‘hello’, ‘hello’ apiece.

We spoke together, with our most serious looks, and raised eyebrows.

“Where have you two been today, this week, and many days in the last ten week? Eh?”

The look of shock was a picture to see, they had been caught!

Deborah had the slipper and was smacking the palm of her hand. “Well?”

They tried to think of something, they mumbled and then came the crocodile tears and apologies. “We are sorry Mummy, sorry Daddy.” and “Sorry Uncle, sorry Aunty.”

It was a forlorn hope and they new it.

We told them they were going to bed with no tea or supper, and that they would be punished in a very different way in the morning.

Deborah lost it then, and really tore into them. “Now get up those stairs…NOW!!!! I am fed up with the pair of you making us look silly.”

She chased them up the stairs with a few well aimed smacks on their bottoms.

I must say, even with such an atmosphere it was a joy to see and I had to smile.

That was it for now, they went to their rooms and we could hear them talking in muffled voices. We relented on tea and took them a sandwich each, but that was all.

They did not sleep a great deal.

The conclusion they had come to was that they might get slapped legs or a spanking and made to go to school with an apology note or something. They decided to be really good in the morning and extra polite.

Breakfast time came and down ‘the two dear little well behaved angels’ came!

“Good morning Mummy, Good morning Daddy, sorry about last night, we have thought about our bad behaviour and promise it won’t happen again.”

“Morning Uncle, morning Aunty, yes we are ever so sorry, you will see a new us from now on!”

They were greeted by silence from us both, and a breakfast did greet them, we are not cruel. They sat in hope, thinking that they might just…just…have survived. Their mood lightened and they began to chatter away.

Then we dropped the bombshell…

I spoke calmly and with great authority, we both had the heavy leather soled slippers in our hands. “You are both going to get a jolly good over the knee bare bottom spankings young ladies. Then, we are pegging your skirts up, and with your panties down, bare red sore bottoms on show, you are walking to school. We have been in touch with Mrs Hallam, and if you reach school without your bottoms on show you are getting the cane each at the school gates!”

They were now stuck for words! They were in shock, we gave them no chance to gather themselves.

“Right, both of you, over you go. And just notice, both of you, that the patio doors are open, the girls on both sides will hear and no doubt give a very good account of the spanking to everyone at school!”

Over our knees they went, facing each other. Oh they were going to learn a very painful lesson today!

Skirts were lifted without hesitation and knickers were yanked down to their knees.

“Right Deborah, no build up, lets give it to them as hard and as fast as we can for as long as we can!”

The girls on both sides must have expected this and were in their gardens, we heard them shout…”Mummy, Daddy, they are both getting spanked before school!”

We heard laughter ring out like church bells on a Sunday morning!

This encouraged us, the more embarrassing it was for them,  the better!

The spanking was hard and furious, they pleaded for mercy and got none. Cheeks wiggled and wobbled as the hand, then slipper, then hand and slipper again, cracked their bare upturned bottoms crisply, the sound of the smacks echoed around the kitchen like pistol shots.

The girls outside lapped it up, especially when both girls at one point managed to wriggle away from our knees and we dragged them back on to renew the spanking with new vigour!

OH!!!…… it was such a delicious dose of domestic discipline, that their naughty bottoms had needed for so long. We even got applause from the neighbours as it came to an end.

“Well done! They have both needed that for weeks!” Shouted one woman.

They walked out, crying and jumping up and down, rubbing their stinging bottoms.

“Right, get to the door it is time to peg those skirts up and let everyone see what naughty girls get at this house…come on!”

The girls next door, on both sides squealed in absolute joy! “They are getting their skirts pegged up, they are going to walk to school with red bottoms on show!”

Charlotte and Amy cried and begged us not to, but to no avail!

“No! We have asked, and we have demanded better behaviour from you two and it has not been forthcoming. Spankings alone have not worked, maybe some humiliation and embarrassment might do you naughty girls some good!”

So we made them go to the back door.

Stand to attention side by side.

Got some clothes pegs, and proceeded to peg their school skirts up, and regulation knickers down!

The effect was already amazing, they were obeying our instructions without hesitation or back chat… a miracle!

Their bottom redness was already fading, and we needed to get them on their way, so as soon as they were pegged up, we passed them their bags and opened the door.

The neighbouring girls clapped and cheered mockingly as the door opened.

I must say at this point, that in a strange way I suddenly felt proud of them. They held their heads up, and walked out onto our drive as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Although, when Deborah shouted to the girls next door…”I have contacted Mrs’ Milner, and if they get to school without their bottoms on show, they are getting caned at the gates, so follow them for me please, and report them if they do! Their heads dropped in dismay again

The girls closed the upstairs window with a shout of, “Yes we will!” and hurried downstairs.

So off they went, naughty spanked girls, with their bottoms on show.

THE WALK OF SHAME began…

Did their behaviour  improve?

You will have to see, what do you think?

THE END

 

 

 

The Strumpet (an account of a visit to a Victorian Brothel)

Hello once more, nice to see you. Sit down by the fire, I’ll bring you a cup of tea and a few chocolate biscuits. make yourself comfy whilst I read you another story. As always, feel free to masturbate if the need arises, I will not be offended. Quite the opposite to be honest, I would take it as a compliment.

In this one you are a visitor to a Victorian whore. Like many a man who has frequented such a girl, you have fallen in love, and you are under her spell. You lie awake at night planning your next visit, and remembering the previous ones.

When you go it is always the same, you go to see her full to the brim with love, but once she starts to tease and undress, your desires take over, and love turns to lust. You remember what she is, she will do anything for money, and you want her to do everything!

You walk the streets of London, in an area called Whitechapel, it’s foggy and damp, but you have known worse. The dismal night casts gloomy shadows from the shrouded gas lamps, and makes the world seem muffled, things like the ‘clip clop’ of the horses hooves as they pass by, seem strangely distant and echoed.

You are making your way to your favourite whorehouse, to see your precious little strumpet, Katie. The gentle hiss of the gas in the lamps and the occasional pop of a gas bubble act as familiar companions to your footfall as you walk.

The door now beckons, you can hear music and raucous laughter from within. The Madam is sat in the entrance and holds her hand out for a sixpence. “Good evening Sir? What’s your pleasure this ‘orrible night?”

You smile and remove your top hat. “Katie, is she…”

“What love? is she willing for a shilling?” She laughs a vulgar loud laugh, which loosens some spittle in her throat and makes her cough.

You watch with an upturned eyebrow as she spits into a spittoon on the floor.

She stops as she sees she has displeased you. “Sorry Sir, Yes she is willing my good Sir, and if the rumour about what hangs between your legs is true I should think she bloody well is!”

This starts her laughing and coughing again so you walk to the stairs, and climb to the second floor, and on to the red velvet covered door at the end of the corridor. Your right fist folds around the brass well polished hexagonal door knob, your left hand raps your tune on the door. You picture her sat behind it, what will she be wearing today?

 She is sat on the other side waiting to greet you in one of her unusual creative ways.

She knows you are listening for her.

…you stand at the door and listen. The delightful voice you have longed for calls to you, in the way only she can.

A voice like summer rain, refreshing the soul like water after a long hard dry day, speaks the words you yearn for. “Come in Mr Barlow.”

You smile, she’s recognised your special knock. You turn the brass handle of her boudoir and walk into a luxurious room, the heady smell from the opium rooms downstairs, mixed with expensive perfume gives it an atmosphere unique to the whole of London.

Her eyes are closed, as she gently pulls the polished wooden dildo from her bodice.

“Now then Sir, I wonder what interesting, naughty act of pleasure I have to perform for you tonight?”

You clear your throat with a gentle deep cough, and close the door behind you, slowly.

It clicks shut as you lean against it, for the next few hours you are exactly where you want to be. The troubles of the world outside fade like the steam from a train, which has just departed the station and left you on the platform.

Platform 10, like her room number, which to you is the most desirable destination on the whole of God’s earth.

Breathing heavily, but slowly, still leaning against the stout polished mahogany door, you look at her. Starting at her feet, you are pleased to see she is wearing the fashionable, expensive shoes you left last time.

It seems she has your favourite black stockings on, the ones with the little black bows at the front.

Oh…and she has those bloomers on, the open back ones you had made specially for her by the seamstress in Edinburgh. The pink silk ribbons hang down titillatingly, begging to be tugged.

You know that they will be open at the top, like her legs are, and her neatly trimmed bush will cradle that glistening slit. The lubricated passageway to ecstasy.

She can hear you breathing… you can hear her breathing too.

Within two minutes of entering that room you are transfixed, the erotic atmosphere engulfs you, and you begin to tremble, as your eyes move up her legs.

…when your gaze reaches the top of her legs you are not disappointed. As you hoped, her bloomers are apart, and there nestled between her creamy white thighs is her fragrant flower of womanhood.

You look at her torso too, and without looking into her eyes, because you know they will still be closed, you study her breathing. The black choker you got her from New York  gently rests on her rising and falling neck.

The jewels on her blood red dress, which you gave her when you took her to the Moulin Rouge in Paris, sparkle.

But your eyes descend once more to her cunt, or…as it was also known at the time, (between the girls), her ‘dumb-glutton’. That was the jewel you prized most of all, the slippery tight flesh of her pussy could tighten around your throbbing phallus like nothing else on earth.

Her body turns slightly, you hear a wet noise, and it is not from the lips between her legs…

…the noise is coming from her other two lips as she sucks the foreskin end of the wooden dildo you gave her last week. The ringlets in her beautiful hair swing back and forth slightly as she moves delicately over its tip, just like you want her to do with the tip of her teeth, on the tip of your throbbing manhood, right now.

Stroking the length of the polished wood with her right hand, and sinking the wooden cock deeper and deeper into her mouth with her left hand, the special welcome she reserves for her Mr. Barlow is almost at an end.

Your cock is tight in your breeches, you need to hold her. “open your eyes damn it, look at me!”

She does so, she looks straight into your eyes….. immediately.

The shiny wooden dildo in her hand moves down to her pussy.

I want to change perspective here, I want you, the visitor to the girl, to talk to the person reading this..

…It was what I wanted, the reason I had picked her. As soon as I gave her an order her whole body language changed, from haughty wanton slut, to a timid submissive, eager to please.

Time for flowery romantic language was not now, she needed to be told, to be instructed. I needed to tell her, I had to control her.

We had talked of this endlessly, it is what she craved and I desired.

I stood straight, looking down at her…

“You did not look at me when I asked Katie. There is a word for that action, what is it?”

“Disobedience Sir.”

“Yes, that is right, you have been disobedient. And what happens to disobedient girls?”

She breathed deeply and began to rub the dildo against her slippery wet opening. “They get punished Sir.”

Two words in that sentence excited her, punished, and Sir.

The same two words excited me too.

“Yes my little strumpet, you need to be taught a lesson. Now tell me, have you been trying out your little device?”

She blushes and replies “Yes Sir, every day!”

You smile. “Good girl, take that dildo out of your cunt, and put it in position.”

She stood to get the little stool, and inserted the dildo into the hole in the soft leather, inches away from another, shorter, but stouter dildo..

“Place it on the floor, my wanton pet, and get the stick you cut for me, place that on it too.”

“Yes Sir.” Obediently she places the stool before you, with the stick resting between the butt plug and the cunt dildo.

You take her hand, and you both stand looking at it. “You have practised using it yes? How does it feel?”

“Gorgeous Sir.”

“Hmmm, it is supposed to teach restraint and obedience!”

“Sorry Sir.”

“Did you get them both inside you completely?”

“Yes Sir, I felt full to the brim!” She smiled triumphantly.

Note… a friend of mine writes wonderful stories, and i got the idea of this stool from one of his deliciously naughty, well written tales. Go and have a look, you will see it here. 

https://spankingtheatre.tumblr.com/post/158548139490/pride-and-obedience

Of course, me being me, I had to go and make one,…back to the story…

“Mount it for me, slowly. I am going to talk to you whilst you are mounted. Do not move. I am also going to ring for service, I shall drink tea. When the maid comes in, just sit on it as if nothing was in you.”

“Yes Sir.”

She straddled the ‘obedience stool’ and after pulling her open back bloomers apart, she slid on to the tip of the dildo. Her hand went behind her back, to guide the butt plug into her other hole, then pushed down on to both.

I moved to the front of her. “Show me it is inserted.”

I moved to the back, “Now show me again.”

She was mounted.

I helped her turn the contraption around to face the direction of the door. “Make it look as if you are just sat at my feet. And do not move on it at all.”

“Yes Sir.”

She sat, as if butter would not melt up her cunt.

I pulled the cord to the bell, and sat before her to wait. “Make one movement and I will get the maid to beat your rump with the beating stick you made.”

She looked horrified. There was a strict hierarchy in the brothels of the day. New girls, waiting for a position were the maids, it was a chance for the whores to feel superior, and ‘normal’. To be thrashed by one would be a terrible insult and the news would spread like wild fire, bringing great humiliation.

Minutes later a maid came into the room. I told her to bring tea, and two cups. Within ten minutes she was back, the strumpet had not moved an inch and was struggling not to. The maid kept looking at her, she could tell something was happening, but unsure what.

“Take the tray to your Mistress, she can take it from you.”

The maid hated that she was called her Mistress. She walked over and passed the tray to her Mistress, who with a very straight back took it from her. The maid looked puzzled.

I told the maid to go, and asked my little strumpet to pour tea. Which she manage with difficulty, because the only place for the tray was the floor.

I looked sternly at her. “And has that experience made you think about obedience?”

“Yes Sir, I always want to obey you, and please you.”

I smiled.

She smiled back. “I love to please you, and want to so very much, honest I do.”

I smiled as warmly as I could and added “You do my dear Katie, you do, and just have. I love to see you submit and obey. I love to punish you, how does that make you feel?”

“Warm and wet between my legs Sir.”

I could not have wished for a better answer.

She was still sat on the obedience stool, and obviously desperate to rub her delicate places against the inserts and the now warm soft leather padding between her legs.

“And what about being punished? When I spank you, birch you, and flog you with a rod?”

She smiled again. “Well I can’t say I dislike it Sir.”

Again, I could not have wished for a better answer from the strumpet I had grown to love and need so much.

I needed to see her relieve her torment. “Remove  yourself from the stool, and go to the chaise lounge, remove your dress as you do so.”

“Yes Sir.”

My manhood was throbbing, it needed attention desperately. I watched her undress and dismount.

She climbed on to the chaise lounge.

“Pose for me, show yourself to me.”

“Like this Sir?”

I laughed, “…well you do look fine, dandy and proud! But get on your knees, show me that delicious bottom of yours.”

“Are you going to spank it Sir?”

“Of course.”

“Present it well for me girl, show me your rump and tell me what I want to hear!”

 

“Oh Sir, I am such a naughty little strumpet, my rump needs a good long hard spanking, please Sir…awww, please SIr, I beg you, spank me, spank me!”

She presented it very well indeed, and I did spank it. Her cheeks wobbled and she wiggled nicely, she held her position. But I needed more than just a few smacks on her bottom as always. I looked around and spotted a delightful stool nestled next to her hanging clothes. “Crawl to that stool.” I pointed. “Kneel on it, and prepare yourself for the hairbrush and cane.”

The cane she offered was incredible. It was her punishing stick, and certainly not rattan. A dark wood, flexible, and gnarled.

“Would you like me to crawl naked now Sir?”

At this point I noticed that whilst bent over on the chaise lounge, looking away from me as I spanked, she had slipped on her ‘need’, as she called it. An extra little sparkling jewel, hung on a hook from her choker.

Many many months ago, after just a few visits she told me that a girl who works at this house must never talk of her own needs, as her madam had told her, it is all about the customer. So the girls had a little secret code. They all purchased the same style of choker, an attractive black one, and they all got an extra jewel, a shiny little pendant one which could hang on a small barely noticeable hook at the front. Once they got to know a man, they showed it them in confidence and said…”Oh Sir, you are my favourite client, the best of all, you touch me there, just right Sir, and…and..”

Of course us gullible men are so easily taken in… “What is it? Tell me, you can tell your favourite anything!”

“Oh thank you Sir, never tell my Madam, this is just between me and you.”

“Yes I understand.”

“Sometimes Sir, you touch me so well that I am crying out for an orgasm myself and can’t really ask, I am not allowed to put my own needs first you see.” With pleading eyes and a look into my soul, how could I resist?

“Oh you must my darling, you must ask!”

“Well, can I simply slide this on, and if you see it, it means I have a need, and that is what we call these, our ‘needs’ Sir. Then I can ask you what I need Sir.”

They probably said it to half their clients, and who cares? I agreed!

I saw her turn and her need was around her neck, so I played along.  “Not just yet my little flower petal, I can see you have a need, am I right in saying that your desperately need an orgasm, was it the talk of spanking?”

“Yes Sir, my juicy quim is throbbing Sir, can I have an orgasm before you spank me Sir?!”

“You must attend to it, use the dildo, fuck yourself hard!”

“Can I pick which one Sir?”

She looked down at the punishment stool with its two dildos glimmering in the light, and breathing heavily she began to reach for the longer of the two. The jewel shone like a diamond butterfly.

I sat on the red leather studded chair and watched as she performed for me.

She sat there, as bold as brass, and began to slide the wooden dildo in and out of her slit. “I love you watching me fuck myself Sir.”

“Oh trust me, I love watching you.”

The wet sticky noise is a joy to hear, as is her body to watch as it gently moves too and fro before me.

She orgasmed noisily and long, the thrusting dildo fucked her hard.

I told her to stay where she was and put her in my collar and lead. “Crawl to me.”

“I am going to thrash your plump ripe rump, crawl to that stool over there, put it where I can get a good swing, and present your bottom you dirty little bitch.”

She trembled at being called such a thing and crawled to get the stool.

I watched her bottom and hips sway as she moved, I could hardly believe that this girl, with such a bottom wanted me…yes wanted and needed me to thrash it.

She presented herself for punishment, obediently. The stool had done its job it seemed. I smacked her cheeks hard and fast with the dark polished hairbrush.

Immediately her cheeks began to glow and mark, she squealed and begged for more.

I took the rod and thrashed her.

“More Sir, punish your naughty wicked little bitch!”

I striped her bottom well, threw the flogging stick on the floor, took my manhood in my hand and guided it to her slippery begging holes, first I fucked that cunt, hard, and then thrust it deep into her bottom, where within seconds my spunk filled it in long hard spurts.

I was spent…

THE END

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE INVEIGLE

Hello, again, nice of you visit, have you been before? If you have you will know that I write spanking stories, some very short, some quite long and some much much longer, like this one.

This will be a full length photo illustrated spanking novel, well over 40,000 words, and at least 15 chapters. It is still under construction, but feel free to read it as it is…

ALL PHOTOS TAKEN BY MYSELF UNLESS STATED, OR ARE OBVIOUS HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATIONS.

I am going to add it a bit at a time , in between creating my other works for you to read, so pop back soon, the kettle is always on, and if you are lucky, there could be a chocolate biscuit!

* * *

                                    INTRODUCTION

               Flagellation Brothels rose in popularity in France before coming over to England, where they flourished. The story you are about to read is set in Victorian England, in one such brothel, which had a spanking themed theatre attached. The establishment was called ‘The Inveigle’, and could be found in Whitechapel, London.

Predominantly the early flagellation brothels were places where women went to see other women, either to spank, or be spanked.   Early French spanking literature, which was abundant, makes this quite clear. The most famous of all the early English establishments was owned by a woman named Charlotte Hayes who lived 1725 – 1813, I am going to tell you a little of her history, because the Inveigle was run by one of her descendants. Deborah Hayes.

Charlotte Hayes

This is where you would have gone to see Charlotte Hayes, up to the top right hand corner of the square in the illustration.

    Not at all a seedy area, this was a very well to do location. The prostitutes of her standing were called courtesans. They mixed with the top echelons of society and had a handful of regular clients, who paid them well and showered them with expensive gifts. They were Mistresses of Dukes, and Duchesses, and many other representatives of leading society. Many were also artist’s models, and not surprisingly had fallen in love with the artists who adored and flattered them, as they themselves had fallen in love with them.

They had feelings for their treasured ‘friends’ and lived a lavish lifestyle, which these close associates willingly provided. They were a Bohemian group.

They could be seen strolling in the great parks of London accompanied by the finest gentlemen and ladies, people knew who they were and how to find them. Each year, books were published, giving accounts of their practices and their establishments. It was vital to have good reports in these publications.

                                         ONE OF THE PUBLICATIONS

( During my research I read many of these, they describe orgies and all sorts of naughty things!)

These books were popular beyond belief and made huge sums of money for the authors. The man who who published this particular one left all his profits from the book to Charlotte, such was her fame and influence.

Despite her later wealth and favour, she trod a hard path to her fame, spending spells in debtors prison, it was here where she met the love of her life, an impoverished irish Poet named Dennis O’kelly. On his death he left her his pet parrot amongst other things, the reason I mention this is because it could recite the whole of Psalm 104…imagine that!

He made his fortune trading in race horses, in particular one champion called ‘Eclipse’, a prize winning stallion. This led him to buying a beautiful house in Epsom called Canons, and this is where Charlotte spent the rest of her life, residing in this elgant palace.

 Lets meet her…, you open the door and there she is, ready and waiting,  she speaks in a soft seductive voice, “I understand you like naughty girls, well, I am afraid I have been a very naughty one indeed, please take the birch from the hook on the wall over there, and attend to my naughty rump.”

 

You take the birch, a little unsure how to proceed, she seems so delicate and beautiful. Do you just thrash her?

She has been doing this for years and knows exactly how to plant a seed of thought. “Pretend to be my Mummy, I have let you down at a huge dinner party and you are very annoyed.”

You walk to the window and open it. “I have never been so ashamed Charlotte, you will never do that again, I am going to teach you a lesson and all the people on the street are going to hear it!”

“Yes Mummy, I’m sorry Mummy.” You watch with anticipation as she stands on her tip toes with her lovely rounded bottom pushed backwards. You need no further invitation and raise the Birch Rod high in the air.

You deliver a sound thrashing, bits of birch twig shatter and fly into the air, she wriggles, squirms and screams but amazes you by holding her position. Your eyes study the effect of the bunch of twigs delivering a thousand bee stings at every stroke. In a matter of minutes her whole bottom is ablaze with tiny welts. Your breathing is laboured as you admire her beautiful red rump, and prepare to inflict the final six strokes.

There is a silence and you realise that she is awaiting instruction. You cough, “That was wonderful thank you, I can hardly believe what has just happened, you have made a dream become a reality!”

“Thank you, can I straighten?” As a submissive she naturally awaited instruction.

“Oh sorry, yes you may.”

She turns and smiles the disarming smile that has melted a thousand hearts, and whilst rubbing her bottom, she asks. “May I pull my bloomers up now Mummy?”

“Yes you may.”

With a wince and another wiggle she does so. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

You say that would be very pleasant, and she rings a small brass bell. Almost instantly  an attractive sandy haired young maid walks in, she is given instruction and leaves.

“That will be two guineas please.”

You pay and then settle down for a chat.

You had probably purchased one of the small magazines available at the time, and subsequently made an appointment, but in the early days it wasn’t so easy. If a girl was in need of a spanking, or wanted to spank another girl then it was neccessary to take a walk in the parks, and look for a woman wearing a slightly larger nosegay (a bunch of flowers worn on the lapel) and most importantly, purple gloves. That is all you needed to know, and if you were determined enough to find someone to spank you, then you would need to acquire this knowledge. You would seek out such a person make eye contact, and receive a delightful knowing smile, and a nod of the head. Your adventure would begin.

A best friend of Charlotte’s who ran a similar flagellation brothel was a lady called Theresa Berkley, who strangely enough lived at No28 Charlotte Street. She was one of the first to have specially built flogging frames. She was famous for being one of the first dominatrix, and the book entitled ‘Exhibition of Female Flagellants’ was attributed to her.

The Device

Charlotte was not to be outdone and had her own designs made. Business must have been flourishing, because it is said she had one where up to forty could be in at one time!

Men were now coming for punishment too, and it seems that Charlotte would sometimes have her naked whores lay on their backs, underneath the men and play with themselves. The men would be thrashed without mercy across their naked rumps, while at the same time being able to watch as the girls pleasured themselves.  At the right moment the man was attended to, either by the girl beneath or another. He would leave sore, but content.

But for me, I am going to stay with the female/female side of the flagellation brothels…

Upon Charlotte’s death, her daughters, (her whores), whom she called her ‘nuns’ made sure her work continued (people at the time often referred to prostitutes as nuns, reputedly due to the number of nuns in the crusades who changed their profession as they travelled with the soldiers)

A descendant of Charlotte’s family  lived in Victorian Whitechapel. Her name was Deborah Hayes, it is a story about her, and another Charlotte, that I really want to tell you. All based around an establishment called ‘The Inveigle’.

The Inveigle had a beautiful theatre attached, which put on regular Saturday Night Spanking Shows performed by The Inveigle Girls. Theatres and ‘girls of ill repute’ have gone hand in hand for centuries, many performers being artist’s models, professional funeral mourners, and prostitutes, to help earn a living.

Charlotte was known to be very adept at what might now be called ‘grooming’. She had a reputation for providing the most beautiful girls, (as well as herself, but only to the privileged few of her own treasured clients). She would place an advert asking for a young girl to tend the elderly, or sick, offering free board and lodgings, as well as a little remuneration. As the girls came for interviews she would select the prettiest, and then tell them that that particular job had gone, but offered them an alternative.

As well as this, her own clients and friends would proffer a girl, or if she spotted a suitable girl ‘about town’ she would approach them. The most famous of all her protégés  was a girl called Emily Warren, who became famous on the London Stage, so much so that Joshua Reynolds himself painted her, saying that he had never seen a ‘so faultless and finely formed human figure’, which is a compliment indeed, seeing as he is one of our most famous artists.

Charlotte spotted her begging on the street at the age of twelve. She was so struck by her ‘uncommon beauty’ that she took her in and set about training her. A little like ‘My Fair Lady’, she taught her how to speak, walk, move in a lady like way, and converse in a way befitting a lady of class.

When a customer walked into ‘The Inveigle’, a signed print of the picture hung on the wall, with an arrow pointing to the theatre. Here is the picture, showing her dressed for one of her most famous parts, ‘Thais’.

Here it is, imagine it, nearly six feet high in a gilt frame with flickering candles either side, and the story of how the great Charlotte Hayes trained her, and she is the reason for the theatre being called ‘The Warren’.

Emily Warren from a painting by Joshua Reynolds

In Victorian times the love of Latin was everywhere. It was a way of showing a person’s standard of education. To keep pornography away from the masses, most of it was written in Latin.

To show ‘class’ and keep up with the times, there was another sign hanging up in the entrance of The Inveigle,  pointing in the opposite direction to the theatre. Through that door were the stairways to the girls, and the spanking booths. The sign was of a famous Roman phrase used when London was Londinium, and Southwark was the home of its brothels. It read…

Quo loco recta vin ad lupanur, amicus?”

Which, when translated, means,

“Which way to the brothel my friend?”

I must not keep you any longer.  This introduction to my story has been much longer than anticipated. I wanted you to know that ‘Flagellation Brothels’ were a real thing, especially those for women only. I wanted you to know the tradition of the theatre, and how the girls of the stage were also prostitutes too. I wanted you to know how ‘The Inveigle’ had begun.

It is now time to take a walk to the wild side of London in Victorian England…

A place where in 1850 there were fifty thousand prostitutes.

A place where streets that housed the bawdy houses, the brothels, and the erotic theatres, had names like ‘Cock’s Lane’, or ‘Gropecunt Lane’. These are real street names.

A place where women of the day, plying such trade, had grand names like Clarice la Clatterbollock, or Alice Strumpet. These too are real names.

A place where huge crowds would gather in Hyde Park to gaze at girls like Catherine Walters, who was known as ‘Skittles’.  She was arguably the most famous Courtesan ever, wore outfits which were so tight, that people knew she had nothing on underneath. Her clients included the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Devonshire.

A place where spanking was one of the most common erotic acts. Even Mrs Beeton, the lady who wrote the famous cookery book, wrote articles in ‘Lady’s Magazines’ describing how to punish a maid, and recommending spankings to be administered on the bare bottom and with other ladies and maids watching, so as to enhance the punishment with humiliation.

So walk with me through the dark, gas lit streets of Victorian London, where the fog hangs heavy. We see a sign hanging above us, the time honoured sign of the brothel, used since the days of Pompeii. A simple ‘hand mark’.

But this sign is slightly different.

Hanging from a wrought iron bracket, and swinging gently.  It creaks under a huge gas lamp, it too shows the hand mark, but this one is painted bright red on a blushing pink bottom. Written underneath in golden copperplate writing are the words ‘The Inveigle.’

Waiting for you is a welcome as warm as freshly spanked bottom. The welcome is from Deborah Hayes, the proprietor. Of all the history I have related to  you there is one physical link. It is Deborah’s pride and joy, a smooth ivory spanking paddle which Charlotte left to her ‘nuns’. It has been passed down the family line ever since. It hung in her parlour and was used to both punish and delight many of the girls in her service. Rest assured it was only one of many implements in that parlour, all of which were well polished due to regular use!

It is time for our story to begin, it is Saturday night, follow me, let’s go to the theatre…

CHAPTER ONE

Victorian England 1887

It is a clear cold evening late in the year, and as usual the sound and smell of horses are everywhere. A well groomed black mare steadily slows to a stop with its hooves slipping and sliding on the damp shiny cobbles.  A man in a brushed top hat and bottle green frock coat steps down from the coach, which is harnessed to the horse.  He unhooks two chocks, and places one behind, and another in front of the nearside rear wheel of a black, luxurious carriage. His ruddy face is lit by the coach light as he opens the door and smiles politely to the people inside.

Two young ladies alight from the carriage which has stopped at the entrance to ‘The Inveigle’.  They smile kindly at the smart, good looking man, and pay their fare. In return he touches the brim of his top hat and smiles knowingly. He is their regular driver and arranges to pick them up in two and a half hours, unless he hears differently.  So once the horse is stabled and the carriage secured, he waits across the road in a Coffee House. They are paying him handsomely, not just for the journey and time, but to keep quiet. They are not ashamed of where they have come, but all the same, it is best to keep wagging tongues silent..

‘The Inveigle’, situated in the east end of London, is a brothel of sorts, which has a rather grand theatre attached.  What makes this bawdy house different is the fact that it caters for women who seek other women, mainly for erotic consensual spankings, which is why these two Ladies are here.

Imagine how these Ladies would feel as they approach the entrance to their club.  It’s Saturday night, it is time for the weekly performance of the Inveigle Girls, and this place is exactly where they want to be. Saturday nights are the highlight of their lives. Arm in arm they walk to the entrance of the well tended building, leaving humdrum days behind as the sight, smell and intoxicating sound of the Inveigle seduces them.  The swinging sign with its pale pink bottom and bright red hand mark makes them both smile and squeeze each other’s arm. The building encourages them to walk brazenly through the entrance as they lower their masquerade masks.

The masks don’t really hide their faces as they show their red and gold Inveigle membership tokens to the girl whose job it is to examine them, they add an air of mystery.  Even though they are both delightfully bold in their chosen form of sexual relief, a discrete walk is advised to all members of the Inveigle Spanking Society. So arms locked in love, masks raised again, covering their eyes, they walk through into the opulent red and mahogany foyer, the gas lamps are turned down dimly, and candles flicker in brass sconces.  Mirrors bedeck the walls, the combination of the low gas light and candlelight reflected millions of times in the mirrors hung across from each other make it feel as though they are entering a fairy kingdom. The red carpet beneath their feet has a soft thick pile. Shadows flicker all around them, both on the walls and floor, the slowly building noise, excites them, knowing glances from other visitors make them feel naughty and moist. They know what visitors like, they know their tastes, they try to work out who is a ‘top’ and who is the ‘bottom’, they study the crowd, and in return the other ladies study them, asking the same sexy, naughty questions with their eyes.

The proprietor, a well respected woman in her early fifties is stood by the double theatre doors, looking and nodding politely at the customers as they enter. She greets them with a coy knowing smile and a gentle hand shake. Her name is Deborah and she makes sure everything is immaculate and done properly.

She also rules the house with a ‘rod of iron’ or to be more precise, a birch and many other disciplinarian implements.

The descendant of Charlotte Hayes is even more famous than she. When she sits in her box, the women in the audience gaze to see what she is wearing, and admire her, as the theatre goers in Covent Garden or Drury Lane would look at the famous courtesans of the day.

The tradition of the connection between theatre, artists models, and prostitutes, continued much as it did in the day of Charlotte. Deborah herself was an accomplished violinist and had appeared in many a music hall. On some occasions she would still stand in her box and play, as her girls did a naked spanking ballet, or similar.

The two Ladies are shown to the stairs which lead down to the seats, by a pleasant looking girl, of around twenty years of age.  She is dressed in a pretty figure hugging dress with vertical black and white stripes and a ruffled collar, with what look like pearls sown all the way round. Another girl in the same outfit greets them at the bottom of the stairs, and with an equally charming smile she ushers them into the auditorium and to their row of seats. It delights everyone. The whole building is luxurious, full of soft feminine curves, it is enticing, it’s naughty, it’s vulgar, yet beautiful.

The buzz of anticipation fills the air as they walk down their row, and look straight up to the two tiers of boxes above the circle, to see who is there. They both stand in front of their seats looking at the surroundings. The lady in the black luxurious mask is sat in her usual place, directly opposite Deborah’s box. She always looks sinister. They don’t really know why, it’s probably just the mask. Maybe the word is too strong, but she looks more than a little menacing. She is always sat in the same seat, and as usual is surveying the crowd through her small opera glass. You can see her scanning each row in turn and slowly they see the direction of her gaze work its way along their row of seats. It passes over them as if they are nothing, not even a momentary second glance; they are not of the slightest interest to her. She puts her glasses down and stares ahead, almost as if she is too good to look at the audience.

They settle into their seats, they are red, and velvety, soft to the bottom.  Most of the decor seems to be red, brass and mahogany. The faint smell of burning oil lingers. Gas lamps turned to ‘half’ hiss gently. Everywhere looks clean, well kept and lovingly cared for. Slowly the theatre fills, as always every seat is taken. Their mind gently thinks of all the delightful bottoms sinking into the soft velvet seats.  How many have been spanked today and are glad of the soft hugging velvet? How many will be spanked tonight? The thought of a whole theatre filled with women who worship the female bottom makes them almost drip with vaginal lubricant, conversations fill the air, and they catch the odd word… ‘spanked, maid, bare bottom, over the knee, public spanking, punishment’, and so on.

In the shadows underneath the front of the stage they can see movement as a young girl in charge of the lime lights is opening the valves one by one. The weights on top of the leather bags are forcing the gas out.  Their eyes follow her as she is hurrying along checking their operation, and then she fades into obscurity as everyone settles, their gaze fixed on the stage.   Like the workings of a watch, nobody is really interested in the mechanics of ‘The Inveigle’, all they want to see is its beautiful face. The girl is just a cog in the machine, one of many who work behind the scenes tirelessly keeping Deborah happy.

Rat a tat- tat!

Everyone sits up with a start!

A girl at the front rattles her black and white small drum. Silence descends like a mist, to envelop the audience. Eight more girls walk with a sway of their hips, their left hands are resting on their left hips, with their right hands are behind their heads. Around the auditorium they go, turning the oil lamps down to a minimum wick length, and blowing out every alternate one. The gas lamps still hiss gently, and are left untouched.

Excitement mounts.

The stage is semi- circular, a little like a circus, but raised about two feet. It intentionally comes to within easy touching distance of the expensive front row seats. Twice a year, for birthdays, the ladies in question both treat each other to two of these treasured seats. The same girls in black and white walk to the stage and with their tapers light the sea shell shaped footlights which run all along its outer edge. This has to be done in the Inveigle style, straight legs, bottoms up, with one finger touched to the lips. One by one from left to right the lime lamps ‘pop’ into life.

The girl underneath the stage lets out her usual sigh of relief, all are lit safely.

An element of danger always accompanies this delicate task as the lime lights at the start of the show could have foot high flames! The reflective shell covers cast a bright white light on the showgirls, which make them look magnificent. The girl has the job of controlling the flames throughout the night, a scary and demanding job and if it were to wrong, the consequences, would be a public spanking on the stage, on a special brightly illuminated set. The spanking would be administered by Deborah, and she knew how to give a spanking.  Many an ‘Inveigle Girl’ has felt the wrath of Deborah on the stage, much to the audiences delight!

Everything was about spanking, Deborah was ‘spanking’ personified, so of course she knew how to spank! She took her seat, the gasp from the on looking audience sounds like a gust of wind outside. The Inveigle Girls  make a circle, all eyes turn back to them, their pink blushing skin lit beautifully by the hissing gas, and in complete silence they undo the back of the dress of the girl in front, the sleeves are short and puffed, and are pulled down off the shoulders. The dresses then slide down in unison, to a gasp of admiration from the onlookers. Each girl has curvy hips and an ample spankable bottom. The attention of the audience is such that even the slightest ruffle of a skirt can be heard, the building is full of spanking minded women, and they are joined in one mind, absorbed in the wonder of soft supple curves, the curves which make up that wonderous creation, the female bottom

The Ladies look up to their right and notice that Deborah, is watching the show and making notes, always striving for perfection. Her box is a place where anyone in the whole theatre would love to be invited. It is plush beyond compare, with a centre piece studded sofa of deep blushing pink in gilded wood, it looks like a huge rump ready to spank. She is sat there as if sat on a throne, the Queen of Spanking sat looking down on all the delicious bottoms of London below her.

The girls step out of the dresses, each now wearing a vertically thin striped black and  white corset, white frilly knickers, black over the knee stockings with white garters, and buttoned up black ankle boots. These are dream boats, seductive temptresses longed for and yearned after. To ‘walk out’ with an Inveigle Girl is what dreams and spanking fantasies are made of.

Without realising when it started, they can hear faint music from the all female orchestra at the back of the stage, the showgirls pick up the beat with their right hand slapping the top of their right thigh gently. They notice the skin turn a delicate blushing pink as the hand mark slowly appears, the shape of the thumb catches their attention.

The showgirls part like the red sea, and in time to the music slowly march backwards arm in arm. Their knees are raised almost waist high at every step to let one of the ‘stars’ walk through.  The tall elegant girl walks confidently through to the front of the stage, naked and carrying a violin. Her name is Scarlet, to match her hair.

Singing in a powerful voice she walks the walk of Scarlet, one foot directly before the other as if keeping to an invisible straight line, hips swaying, with beautiful big eyes fixed on one spot somewhere behind you, she claps to the beat, and the audience do the same. They love her, some whistle, others throw red roses on to the stage, a pair of frilled black knickers sails through the air to land by her feet. A huge cheer goes up as someone shouts “I bet they are wet!”

She starts playing her violin, as the girls stood each side begin to sing a favourite song of the audience.

 

The song is magnificent and fits the mood, “Some of them want to spank you… some of them want to be spanked by you… some of them want to abuse you, and some of them want to be abused by you…”

THINK ANNIE LENNOX MUSIC…. VICTORIAN STYLE,

The Chorus Girls accompany her. To the left are the submissive girls, known in the spanking society as ‘bottoms’, all have a red feather in their hair, to the right are the dominant girls, known as tops, they all now wear a black top hat, which once again you never noticed them put on. Every time the girls come to the theatre come they think that they  must look for the point when they do it, but they have missed it again! They look towards each other and giggle as they say “Missed it again!”

The ‘bottoms’ sing one line, the ‘tops’ sing the next, it’s the traditional start of Saturday night at The Inveigle.

The audience pick up the song and in the same manner, the spankees singing one line, often stood slightly bent over with their bottoms swaying in time to the music.  The spankers join in eagerly, clapping in tune with their hands just behind their partner’s bottom, some bolder ones actually spank in tune. Even bolder ones raise the skirts of their submissive and lower their bloomers, to spank their rosy bottoms in public.

One of the girls is bent over and her friend is spanking her, she loves it! Her bottom is shapely and admired, it is obvious that she loves it to be seen and appreciated. To the beat of the drum she wiggles from side to side, tempted to lift her skirts! How bold they become when they visit ‘The Inveigle’.

So up her skirts come, and down slide the bloomers, her friends hands slips down to your pussy and nobody minds at all.

The music stops, the clapping fades. Scarlet walks to the left of the stage. People sit down slowly, so does the girls with her bloomers at her knees, her friend holding her dark, curly, bushy little triangle as if it was a small bird in her hand. She thrusts against it in time to the drum beat.

In her dressing room not far from the stage was the woman who kept order on the stage, she was loved by everyone and the queue to be used by her was long, and growing longer every week.

She looked at her self in the mirror and tugged on the lapel of her outfit. No matter how many Saturday nights she walked from her room to the stage she felt an attack of the nerves. “Come on girl! They love you!” She listened to the music and to her signal  hidden in the tune, and set off.

Magnificent Eleanor, dressed in a ring-masters suit of sorts, walks determinedly onto the stage. She cracks her whip, and immediate silence follows.   Speaking in an accent which has a hint of French she welcomes the audience. The little drums still keep the beat going and some in the audience are clapping gently, others like the girl are pumping their groins to their first orgasm of the night.

“Ladieeeees and… More ladies!” She shouts!

A massive cheer, stomping of feet and whistles come back to her.

“Welcome to the seducing.”

The whole audience go “ooooooooooh!”

“The beguiling!”

“Oooooooooooooooooo oooooh!”

“The sensational!”

“Oooooh!”

“The naughty, the bad, the downright raunchy… INVEIGLE!”

Once again the whole auditorium explodes into rapturous applause and shouts of glee, as boots stomp a rumble like thunder around the theatre, it almost shakes like an earthquake

God she looks good up on the stage. Her legs in black fish net stockings, her figure encased in red, with a shiny black glistening pair of tight knickers.

She cracks the whip again.

“Use that on my arse!” Shouts a delicious young woman stood up at the front.

She stares at the woman and walks towards her.  For what seems many minutes, but in actual fact only two or three, Eleanour stands before the woman, smiling, and not saying a word. The woman is visibly excited and twitches, adjusting he position, stood before her seat her seat.

In a deep female seductive voice Eleanour looks to the woman and replies to her shouted comment. Her voice is clear and it takes little effort to make it heard to the front rows. “If you wish me to I will Madam.”

Almost immediately an image of what she hopes will come flashes through the woman’s mind. An image so accurate in its prediction, that you would not believe…

She sits down meekly as the Ring Mistress passes her a card with a room number on. The girl blushes and the audience make very suggestive comments and noises. They all know that after the show she will be up in the Ring Mistress’s room, getting what she craves; a crimson and well striped sore bottom.

Eleanour turns away smiling wickedly, and walks to the centre of the stage. She spins to face the audience.

Crack! The whip whistles through the air and pierces the atmosphere like a bullet from a gun. The Ring Mistress draws in a big breath, her breasts swell as she waves her arm high to her left holding her top hat, and shouts. “Bring on the ponies!”

The ‘Radetzky March’ bursts from the orchestra and the girls in black and white step back to the edge of the ring, alternate tops, and bottoms, ready to show the audience when to clap. This is the perfect music for spanking.

 

 

To be continued, call back soon! I am taking character photos of the characters right now, the story is written… but being adjusted all the time!

Asa

 

Millbank

Millbank Prison 1868

Come on, I’ll take you a stroll. We are going to walk the streets of Victorian London, so put this cloak on, we don’t want to look out of place do we? It’s a misty night, the gas lamps give a nice yellow glow in the dark, it sounds hushed, even the horses hooves sound as if they are wrapped in old sacking.

I take you to the River Thames, we are near the Houses of Parliament. The fog is thicker now, and dropping fast, but we can still see the other side for now. There is a huge formidable building, austere and threatening. It is Millbank Prison, in Pimlico. Like The pentagon in U.S.A. this is built in a similar style. But dark and forbidding.

It is a women’s prison, every week they have new inmates and today some have arrived. They will have their hair cut into a bob, be washed and if needed de-loused. Their crimes are read out so everyone knows what they have done, and then as is the custom on the first night, they are put in solitary. The sound of their cries is pitiful.

After a few week when they have learned the routine and got used to the boring hard work of picking coconut fibre and such like, the reality of the future hits them…every day will be the same, for years.

BUT

After maybe two months, the wardens have weighed each one up, and the pretty ones, who seem to have a certain type of disposition are made an offer. A one time only offer, which they cannot think about, they are offered it and have to decide there and then. There is a list of Victorian Ladies who are seeking female sex slaves, to do their bidding.  They often let themselves be known at a birching, which at this time was a public thing, where people could see many a day for a few pennies.

You are told of this list…. oh sorry, did you not notice me leave?

You are now prisoner 081151 Corbin. The wardens have just asked you if you want to volunteer. They tempt you by saying that you will be moved to the top floor where the sun shines in. The corridor doors are locked all day,  but from six in the morning  until six in the evening the cell doors are  left open. It is like a small community, they call it Millbank Village. The food is better, the work minimal. You need your strength for the Ladies who will visit twice a week. You must comply to their every wish… so, what do you say Corbin?

“Can I have flowers in me room Miss?”

They agree.

“Yes then, when do I start?”

They tell you that you have just started and take you up to your new cell, where you settle in for a week.

In a large house, called ‘The Inveigle’ is Lady Charlotte Elizabeth. She was playing a tune at her harpsicord when one of her maids hands her a letter. It tells her about you. She clasps her hands in delight, and that night she makes plans.

Soon the prison has a letter, and a date is set.

Today is the day you meet your Mistress, you sit on a stool in your cell and are told not to move.

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You are trembling inside, the cool air on your body washes over you, you are naked, never in your life have you felt so vulnerable. The words of the warden drift in to your mnd…

“You must comply to their every wish”

Suddenly you hear voices, a new voice, posh and clear stands out, you know instantly that it is your new Mistress. her footsteps come into the cell.

Lady Charlotte Elizabeth stands still to examine you, she is pleased. You can feel her eyes searching your nakedness.

She does not speak but a satisfied little “Hmm” comes from her lips, she walks in with a small wooden rocking horse under her arm, and a canvas bag.

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The temptation to look at her is overwhelming. So you watch her as she takes her instruments out of her bag.

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“Did I give you permission to turn around?!” Shouts lady Charlotte.

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Unsure whether or not to speak without permission, you shake your head.

“Get up, and bend over the stool, you are going to have your first spanking… right now!”

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The word spanking was a word you already loved, inside you, your tummy felt little quivers as you rested your tummy on the warm stool and presented your bottom for your Mistress.

Your Mistress, how good does that sound to you?…and she was beautiful!

How you loved to be able to think of her as your Mistress.

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Then you felt her hand for the first time, warm, gentle and searching.

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You pushed your cheek up to her hand and sensed that she loved it.

Then…smack!

The heaviness of her hand surprised you, it landed with such force and the crack echoed around the cell. Again you pushed up, greeting each smack eagerly. Your Mistress had already begun to know that the selection of her slave was a good one for her.

smack smack spank smack… fifty hard smacks were delivered quickly and sharply, and you needed it, it hurt, but all the same…

you love it!

In a voice full of control, yet seductive, she told you to stand with your hands on your head.

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You could feel her stare again as she hardly moved her eyes from your bottom, oh you so hoped she was pleased with it, was it blushing enough? Did you make enough noise? Did you wriggle enough? Or too little? You wanted to please her so much.

She sends you to a corner, which you later found out meant that a change of activity was due. You sit there and look to the floor, you can tell she is looking at you, but dare not return her gaze. Then the silence is broken, her voice still sounds strong, in command, yet it also sounds so alluring.

“Crawl to me”

…being as feline as you can you crawl, trying your best to make your hips sway as invitingly as you can.

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She tells you to kneel before her, and asks your name. On hearing you reply with the phrase ‘Mistress’ she is pleased, and says you must always address her thus.

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Between you is the little wooden rocking horse which she carried in.

“Can you ride?”

“No Mistress.”

“Hm… no matter, you can learn. You can start by riding this little chap, he is called Neddy, say hello.”

You look to the horse and smile. “Hello Neddy.”

Her face changes slightly, it is obvious her arousal is growing.

“Mount the horse for me, my pet.”

You loved being called pet, and climbed onto its back.

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“Now ride it for me” said lady Charlotte Elizabeth as she produced a riding crop!

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You got you balance as best you could and rocked back and forth. Before you knew it she was stood by your side, cracking the crop across your bare bottom!

You learn quickly and pick up the pace.

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Sweat begins to run down your back, you pant and gallop as fast as you can as the crop strikes your rump faster and harder. She is sat just behind you….”Faster you bitch, faster!”

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OH! the pain…

crack whip smack crack whack!

You bottom was on fire, it felt as if she was using a sword on your bottom and it was cutting into the ripe soft glowing flesh.

crack crack whack!

You galloped as fast as you possibly could…screaming!

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You wanted to please your Mistress so very much and galloped hard, trying to push your bottom up for each and every crack of the delicious riding crop.

She let you rest a while then, whist she rummaged in her bag.

Then you were summoned to her again.

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Resting on top of Neddy was a cock, a huge purple cock.

This is for you, to help you ride faster, but it is a little dry, so suck it for me, suck the cock as I watch you.

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You slide your mouth over the cock as she watches and talks to you.

“Oh you like that cock don’t you?”

Almost gagging and close to vomiting you suck the cock hard and slide up and down it, taking it deep into your throat.

She stops you and tells you that you have to fuck it whilst riding, so instructs you to straddle the horse and take its cock into your cunt.

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She drools over the sight of it and watches it slide into your wet slit.

“Now fuck it hard, ride Neddy for me, ride that big purple head deep!”

Your orgasm was tremendous, and she loved it.

It was time to rest again, and she told you to look to the floor, whilst she did something. You heard rustles but dare not look. Not long passed before she beckoned you again.

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Oh she looked lovely, her dress shimmered like a wedding gown.

“You have pleased me, and I have enjoyed watching you ride Neddy, he will come often. but now I want you to ride something else…”

ME!

She revealed a huge strap on cock as she lifted her dress.

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“I am going to fuck you hard, in all three holes..

your mouth

your cunt

and your arse.”

You nod in enthusiastic agreement.

“First suck me, as if I am a man, suck me and slide me in deep to make me spurt in you.”

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This meant you could hold her and pull her to you.

Once more, like with Neddy, you gobbled and sucked. You moaned and lost control almost as your head flew up and down the shaft in a frenzy, it must have put pressure on her pussy, you could feel her thrusting back.

Then she told you to bend over the stool, which you did willingly, wantonly, eagerly. You wanted your Mistress to fuck you, you wanted to please her so very much.

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She rode you then, like a sweating stallion she thrust deep into you time and time again. You knew she was close to coming, the movement and her sweet noises told you so.

She withdrew, got hold of your hair like a horses main and slid the shaft deep into your arse and fucked you mercilessly until she came with a long scream of an orgasm.

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Out of breath she sat down and told you to stay where you were.

She looked at you, and said she was pleased.

How you long for her visits now…

The End

Two Naughty Girls on a Steam Train

TWO NAUGHTY GIRLS ON A TRAIN

When I was a boy of around thirteen I went on a train trip with one of my brothers, and my Mum and Dad. I was born in 1951, so I calculate this to be 1964.  It was a works trip to the sea-side, my Dad was an ex-military man and quite strict, so we behaved pretty well, near enough all the time.  On a day like this, all the children were expected to behave, it was a treat, and everyone’s family was on show. We were in a compartment on the train when a woman and a girl of around my age, maybe a couple of years older, came in. The girl was in a right mood and showed her Mummy up all the time by being rude and obstinate, eventually her Mum lost her temper, (my Dad kept looking at her in a most dissaproving way!) and threatened to spank the girl there and then.

I remember the girl looking straight at me, as if to read my thoughts, which were… ‘Go on, keep being naughty, let me see your bare bottom get a spanking!’

Alas she behaved…::sigh:: …but that night I wanked hard thinking of it and pretending she got the spanking.

This story is quite different in all honesty, but it is set on a train, and, well, you’ll see!

The story…. (the photos are stills I have taken as snapshots from the video I made of this) you can buy the video from my site.

Two girls are on a day out with Aunty Donna, a rather strict Aunty, only about ten years their senior.  But she had the authority and in those days, as you know, things were different. Their Mummy’s had given her full permission to make them behave if needed, and the girls knew it.

They had been good girls in town, and Aunty Donna was impressed. On the journey home the train had to change at a station to take a branch line to their home town. She trusted the girls to take a look around whilst she had tea and cake, and read her book a while.

The two girls went over the footbridge to the other platform and walked down it, it was a hot day, and girls will be girls at times, they felt rather naughty….in a wet pussy sort of way!

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They came across a row of carriages, no engine was attached, they were just parked. They looked through the windows to see inside.

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It looked inviting, and quiet, you could even say it looked private.

The row of carriages were actually longer than the platform, if they could get on and walk to the end, they would be safe to see to their growing naughty need…

Eventually, after trying a few doors, surprisingly they found an open door

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and climbed aboard

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Slowly they made their way down the train to the part where the carriages were stuck out of the platform, eventually reaching the ‘First Class’ Carriages.

{this gave the name to the video ‘A First Class Spanking’}

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Then they found it, a beautiful British Railways First Class Carriage.

Just right for naughty fun!

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By now the excitement, the heat of the day, and the location made them as moist as they had ever been. Their pussies screamed for attention, so in they went, and giggling they settled down on the comfy seat.

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They talked so naughtily, and then decided to do it!

“Let’s masturbate, you keep watch for me, and I will keep watch for you, lets get our pussies out in public and cum!” So after a quick look up and down the corridor, Charlotte decided to take her knickers down, she was now quite desperate to get her fingers sticky!

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Before long she was sat by Amber, her dress up, rubbing her wet swollen pussy, the noise of the sticky walls rubbing together around her probing fingers was delicious!

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Soon the railway compartment was full of her orgasmic groans of pure pleasure, it really made Amber wet!

“Oh God I need to finger my cunt now!”

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So Charlotte kept a look out whilst Amber slid her hand in her knickers to finger herself wildly.

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When they had both achieved their climax, they still felt sexy on that sultry warm summer afternoon.

“Haven’t we been naughty!” Said Amber proudly, she was the younger of the two.

Charlotte picked up on the word ‘naughty’

“And you know what naughty girls get Amber.”

Immediately Amber replied with a smile, “Spankings, on their bare bottoms, don’t they!”

“Yes they do, shall we spank each other for being naughty then?”

“What? Here!”

“Yes!”

So they did!!

First Amber looked out into the corridor as Charlotte spanked her.

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The smacks were crisp, loud, and echoed down the corridor unheard by anyone. The two girls loved it, they felt so daring. Soon Amber’s turn finished,  and Charlotte asked if she  was sure she had been spanked enough. “Oh yes! It was lovely!”

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So it was now Charlotte’s turn to poke her head into the carriage corridor for her spanking. She began to undress, her excitement mounting.

The thing with Charlotte is, she always lets the excitement get the better of her, her mind began to race as they spoke.

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As her bottom was being spanked, she looked up and down the corridor, and her confidence in the situation grew.

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Her spanking quickened and she pushed her needy bottom up to the smacks to greet them.

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smack

owww ohhhh mmmm!

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This was the moment she shocked Amber…

“Spank me naked over you knee! There is nobody around, and it is so sexy in here, it’s a chance not to miss!”

Amber, always easily led agreed wholeheartedly.

But haven’t we forgotten someone?

Aunty Donna was livid, she had been kept waiting far too long and the train they were supposed to get on has left, they are here for another hour and a half now, so she is searching for them.

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She was a beautiful yet powerful woman, a no nonsense type of woman with a booming voice. She searched for them.

She reached the row of coaches and began trying door handle after door handle, and at that exact moment, Charlotte was settling over Amber’s knee for her spanking, neither of them were keeping a look out anymore!

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So her playful spanking began.

Meanwhile Aunty Donna had found an open door and boarded the row of carriages, she was walking towards them, and as she did so she could hear the giggling and the smacking.

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Aunty just knew that this was them, they were once again up to mischief, she slowed down and slowly crept up to the compartment they were in …

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They were caught red handed!

“Charlotte! What on earth are you doing naked on a train! Look at you both, I hardly dare think what you have been up to besides play spanking. But my word, the play is over, you are both getting a real one young ladies, right now!”

She made Amber get over her knee first.

She got a hard fast spanking, her cheeks soon glowing!

This time people could hear, the smacks and squeals drifted through the station!

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“Owww Aunty stop, people can hear!”

“Not so much of a game now is it you naughty girl!”

Charlotte looked on horrified, she knew hers was going to be worse, much worse, it always was!

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She was not to be disappointed!

“Right….you! Here! Now!

Oh dear, this was going to be the hardest one yet.

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Oh the shame!

To be spanked over her Aunt’s knee, naked!

She could not help but let out squeals and yelps as the hard spanks rained down on her rosey red cheeks, and…. oh no, she could hear people talking, they must be able to hear!

Oh but my dear little Charlotte, it got so much worse.

….her spanking was the hardest yet, her cheeks were on fire, and the only clothing Aunty let her put on after her spanking, were her shoes, as she smacked her bottom on the way down the corridor, off the train and on to the platform!

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I hope you like this enough to buy the video.

* * *

The Wooden Spoon and Charlotte’s Revenge

THE WOODEN SPOON

Back in her days at school, Charlotte was such a naughty young girl, who got into lots of scrapes, and was spanked or caned many many times. (Luckily for us eh?)

She went to an all girl’s school, where next door there was an all boys school.

You can imagine the goings on near the railings or gates and such like, it was a constant worry for the staff. All the girls were told not to fratenise with the boys, but of course, telling girls at the ages of 16, 17, 18 not to do something, especially when boys are involved, was like telling them to try it!!

Charlotte found a little corner of the playing fields, where, behind a large bush was a space, which bordered onto the boys school. To keep a long story short, she eventually got to know quite a few of them and  found that showing her bare bottom to them whilst they masturbated could be quite rewarding financially!

The word spread eventually to the staffroom, and the headmaster at the boys school caught her out, and after getting her name from a school book in her satchel, he reported her to the Headmistress of the girls school.

Her Mummy was summoned to the school to hear all about her daughters behavior, she was a proud lady and had never been so embarrassed in her life as she was at the interview. After all her previous misemeanours it was a case of sort it out or remove her from the school!

Charlotte had already suffered a spanking from Miss Black, and was in great danger of a public caning in the main hall.

Mummy managed to talk Miss Black out of exclusion, by saying that she would deal with her at home, and make sure she would never repeat this action again.

This is where our story begins,  Mummy has driven Charlotte home in silence, obviously fuming!

 

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Very little was said during the journey, Mummy just kept tutting and shaking her head. But when they pulled up the drive the wrath of Mummy exploded!

“Don’t you ever, I mean EVER show me up like that again young lady. My word you are going to have such a sore bottom tonight!”

Mummy got out of the car, leaving Charlotte very nervous indeed.

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Mummy made her way to Charlotte’s door, the footsteps getting closer made her shudder in her tummy.

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Mummy opened the door and yanked Charlotte out by her hair!

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Poor Charlotte knew a very bad spanking was on its way and was soon out of the car heading towards it!

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Her bottom got its first smack before even reaching the back door, everyone around could hear, Mummy was telling her off so loudly!

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It was a sunny day, people were around, and soon they began to gather at the end of the drive, or across the road, to see what the commotion was! It didn’t bother Mummy at all, and things got rapidly worse for our naughty girl, her dress was pulled up and she got some smacks on her knickers, whilst the people could see.

“Stop Mummy please…people can see!”

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Things got rapidly worse for Charlotte, or from the onlookers point of view, better!

Her Mummy spoke very loudly to them all, “She has been a very naughty girl and is going to get a damn good spanking on her bare bottom! You all wait there for a while and you’ll hear, but let it start right here!!”

Without further ado Mummy pulled her knickers down and gave her six brisk smacks!

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“Awwww no Mummy no, please don’t, look the girls from the posh school are here now!”

Two of her biggest rivals from the posh estate were now stood laughing and pointing at her.

Mummy was still not deterred, she pushed Charlotte into the kitchen, and deliberately left the door open, so Charlotte could hear them talk and giggle, and the growing crowd could hear the smacks and squeals!

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smack…. owwwwww   smack… ohhh Mummy stop my bottom my bottom it hurts! ….smack smack owww ooooh!!

“This is only the start young lady!”

The crowd outside hushed as they listened to the proceedings… everyone knew what a very naughty and sometimes quite haughty young girl she was. Little sympathy was coming, in fact a lot were saying ‘she has needed this a long, long time!’

Her telling off went on and on and people began to laugh again as details of her naughtiness were shouted by Mummy.

“Ohhhh don’t shout so loud Mummy, please!”

“Shut up! Everyone is going to know your shame you little hussy!”

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“It’s no good looking so sorry for yourself, and mark my words you will be doing soon, it’s the wooden spoon for your bare bottom madam!”

Charlotte heard the intake of breath and murmers from the crowd outside and the neighbours over the fence too.

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Charlotte was close to tears, but a strange feeling was rushing through her body. The fact that people could hear, and had already seen her get spanked a little excited her. Her pussy liked the experience, she wanted more humiliation.

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She watched sulkily as Mummy went for the wooden spoon.

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When Mummy came back she told her, “Right, I am going to show your bottom no mercy with this Charlotte, upstairs with you, to your bedroom, right now!”

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And so the chase began. Charlotte desperately trying to avoid the stinging smacks of the wooden spoon and Mummy trying to redden her cheeks every step of the way…

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Charlotte had been chased upstairs before, and as soon as Mummy began lifting her skirt she was off!

“Did I give you permission to pull those knickers up Charlotte?” shoted Mummy, her voice could be heard outside and this bought forth a fit of giggles, they could all picture  what was happening!

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The staircase acted like an echo chamber, each smack resounded as did each squeal! The upstairs windows were open and the ‘audience’ could follow the performance!

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smack! oooooowwww!

Charlotte tried so hard to flee, but Mummy had a firm hold of her dress, she could feel herself losing her balance!

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whack!! oooooh….ooh oooh

Mummy pulled her back, she was going to make the most of the spanking on the stairs, poor Charlotte felt like she was climbing through treacle, another resounding smack on her left cheek made her scream…..owwwwwwwwwwww my bottom, my bottom, oh Mummy please stop please stop!

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That will be a bruise in the morning!

The stairs gave an ideal position for her bottom to be spanked almost at eye level, so Mummy did just that!

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Charlotte was wriggling furiously now, but there was no escape for the naughty girl.

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As one mark faded another was applied, Mummy was in full swing, and with all her might Charlotte pulled almost free. Mummy was hanging on to her knickers!

“Mummy you are ripping my school pants!”

“I’ll rip them off in a minute, conme back here!”

The crowd outside laughed at this.

Oh dear, Charlotte slipped and the step onto the landing acted as a spanking bench where Mummy got two really good stinging smacks well placed on the centre of each cheek of her delightful rump!

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At least at the top of the stairs there was an end in sight for the burning of her cheeks, her bedroom, “Right…in you go!”

 

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“But Mummy, everyone will hear my spanking, they are all out there and the window is open, please please no…no no Mummy please!”

No choice was given…smack smack smack…”In  NOW!!”

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“Get over there” shouted Mummy. The bedroom glowed a beautiful pink to match her rosey bottom!

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Charlotte was now doing exactly as she was told and hurried to the spanking position, her bedroom window, where the crowd was stood below, waiting.

“Here she is!”

Oh the humiliation…

“Right young lady, present that bottom, come on, on tip toes. Now keep your eyes open and look at the all, now tell them you are a naughty girl and need a jolly good spanking!”

She could see them all, twice as many as expected and right at the front were the posh girls, but now six of them! They pointed and giggled at her predicament again.

“I am a naughty girl and need a jolly good spanking, don’t I?”

They all shouted…”YES!!!”

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And so it began….Charlottes most humiliating spanking ever, a public one on her own street, in her own bedroom, before neighbours and rivals, oh the shame. They saw her hop and jump about, they heard every smack and squeal.

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Once more the sensation hit her, being on view, being humiliated made her pussy throb, it made it moist, she was so turned on!

“Right, that’s the public spectacle over with, I hope you feel disgraced and ashamed of yourself!”

Charlotte thought…. “Actually I was almost cumming!”

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She was pulled into Mummy’s bedroom…

spoon z7Her spanking from Mummy was over, then as she finished her telling off she told her to bend over the clothes rail.

Charlotte wondered why she was there if her punishment was over, but then came those awful words….

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“You just wait until daddy gets home!!” And just then she heard a car door….oh no!!!!

CHARLOTTE’S REVENGE!

Charlotte still continues to be naughty, and still gets her delightful bottom spanked quite often, but let me tell you about what happened around three months after the above story.

It began in her bedroom, which incidentally  is decorated in the manner of a Princess, suits her don’t you think?

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She earned a little money from odd jobs and helping out after school at a cafe from time to time.  Shoes were a great love and she was saving up for a lovely pink pair she had seen. Only that morning she had counted the money, and in her bedroom after school she had three pounds to put away in her special box, so feeling pleased she counted it again, only to find there was £30 short!

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Her little face looked quite sad as she tried to puzzle out what could have happened, an idea shot into her head, but surely it couldn’t be that, so she checked the money again, just to make sure.

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It was definitely missing!

Her mind raced and no matter how hard she tried to think of another explanation, she couldn’t. You see, her Mummy also had a passion for shoes, and had been wanting this pair for weeks whilst they were in a sale, which ended today, surely she wouldn’t have  taken it,

….surely not!

There was only one thing to do, ask her, but how?

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So off she set, she could hear her downstairs, in the kitchen.

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Half way down the stairs she stopped to think, was she being silly?

No! It was the only possible reason she could think of.

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“Mummy…are you there, I don’t suppose…ohhh!”

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There, before her very eyes was Mummy, proudly looking at the shoes, and she knew from what Mummy had said that she could not afford them.

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Mummy tried to explain best she could.

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All the usual excuses which Charlotte herself had tried many times came tumbling out of Mummy’s mouth.

I was going to put it back.

I was only borrowing it.

I needed the shoes, the sale ended today!

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A strange but wonderful thing happened then. Where her voice of authority came from she will never really know, but she told Mummy that if this was her she would spank her for it, and seeing as the roles are reversed she thought the same should happen to Mummy!

“So Mummy, I am going to spank you, over to the sofa NOW!!”

Charlotte walked over to the sofa and sat down.

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It was an amazing feeling, she began to use the same words Mummy would use, and believe it or not Mummy obeyed her, meekly.

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She looked up at Mummy, and as calmly as you like she said …

“Well? I’m waiting, over my knee now young lady!”

Young lady indeed, but yes, she altered the roles completely and Mummy did as she was told without question!

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Just like a naughty school girl Mummy began to bend over her knee, oh Charlotte was going to enjoy this! All those times she had been over her Mummy’s knee for stinging spankings. Now she was going to make her pay. The moment she began to bend over was wonderful!

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Charlotte’s face lit up the moment her Mummy was over her knee!

Look at her smile, she is loving it isn’t she?

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Mummy’s trousers came down in an instant

“Are you ready Mummy, you naughty girl?”

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“Awwww, yes I am, I am ready for my spanking, I am indeed a naughty girl” said Mummy, and it began in ernest, a resounding smack echoed across the room instantly.

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smack, spank, crack….. Charlotte’s hand began to rise and fall, cheek to cheek as the memories of those spankings flooded in, she knew exactly where it hurt most and how it felt!

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“Ohh owwww ooooh my bottom, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Mummy tried her best to get mercy but none came, Charlotte new very well what it was like to ask for mercy, only for the smacks to get harder and faster!

So without further ado she yanked her Mummy’s knickers down and proceeded on the bare!

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“Yes Mummy, on the bare bottom! You are a naughty girl and need a bare bottom over the knee spanking don’t you?”

Charlotte hated it when Mummy asked her this, so knew how Mummy would feel.

“Yes, I am, owwww a naughty oooooooh girl smack smack smack, and I need a good hard bare bottom, oohhhh owww over the knee spanking!”

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Charlotte giggled which added to Mummy’s humiliation!

smack smack smack spank!

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The spanking was now in full flow, Charlotte was enjoying her role and Mummy was finding out what a heavy hand her daughter had got.

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Charlotte could see her Mummy’s bottom getting red, so she concentrated on the ‘sit spot’ she knew how much it hurt.

Then she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye, Mum was trying to move the slipper out of sight, so she told her Mummy sternly, “Pass me the slipper you naughty girl!”

“No not the slipper, please no no no not the slipper!”

“Oh yes…the slipper!”

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Mummy was wriggling and kicking like a fourteen year old, screaming and making such a fuss!

whack! went the slipper, as it landed full force…ooooowwwwwww!

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Another ten or fifteen smacks with the slipper followed fast and hard as the spanking came to an end.

Charlotte, panting and out of breath then said something which made her feel powerful and dominant.

“Now get to your room!”

Oh how often had she left the room with a stinging red sore bottom with those words ringing in her ears!

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“…and don’t let it happen again Mummy”

Mummy was crying and dying to rub her bottom as she left saying.

“No Charlotte, I won’t, I’m sorry….sniff”

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That night somthing happened.

Charlotte lay in bed masturbating at what had happened.

And at the same time, Mummy did the same, as she lay rubbing her bottom feeling the heat.

*  *  *

The Violin Lesson

THE VIOLIN LESSON

Allow me to inroduce you to ‘Mummy Bear’, a refined beautiful lady who  as well as running her Theatre in London, specialises in the instruction of the violin.

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She has appeared at the Albert Hall, and is an accomplished violinist.  Nowadays nearly all her time is devoted to her Theatre, but she allows herself an afternoon a week, in her parlour.  for violin tuition. It is a break from the normal and the violin is something she could never give up.  She expects all her students to be as keen as herself and adhere to her methods, which include much practice and preparation.

If students do not stick to this regime, they are dealt with severely.

Charlotte, one of her favourite students has been slacking lately, and Mummy Bear suspects that she will not have rehersed her practice piece as much as she should have. Charlotte knocks at the door…”Come in!”

As usual a very friendly greeting and the usual niceties ensue.

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“Hello dear, I hope you didn’t find the pice too difficult, I am looking forward to hearing it, it has always been a favourite of mine.”

Charlotte fidgets and blushes. “Well I have tried really hard Mummy Bear, but confess that I am struggling with it.

“Then play it for me my dear, let’s see if you are any better than last week, I’m sure you will be if you have put the practice in.”

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So Charlotte tried her best, which in all honesty was terrible. It was soon apparent that she had put very little work into it.

 

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Mummy Bear had been waiting for this, she knew exactly what her performance would be like. “That my girl was the worst rendition of that beautiful piece of music it has ever been my misfortune to hear!”

Charlotte looked down feeling very guilty, her lips pouting and eyes pleading for forgiveness.

“It’s no good looking to the floor for help is it? Have you actually tried the piece at all?”

“No Mummy Bear.” Charlotte began to cry, she knew what was coming. Her parents and herself had signed a disciplinary document and she knew that she was to be punished.  “I’m sorry Mummy Bear, hosest, I’ll practice for next week, honest I will!”

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Some of the Chorus Girls were walking by the room and heard the raised voices. This haughty young lady had ignored every offer of friendship given by them when she came for her lessons. She looked down her snooty nose at them and felt above them.  She usually walked by them with a superior look and her nose pointed in the air. They loved what they heard, and took it in turns to look through the keyhole.

“You naughty girl!” Admonished Mummy Bear. “I am going to teach you a lesson today alright, one you will not forget in a hurry!”

Charlotte was ordered to come to Mummy Bear’s right hand side. Her voice was commanding and clear, gone was the anger and annoyance, it was replaced by authority and domination.

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Charlotte, even with her outward haughty appearance to girls around her own age, was very different sort of girl inside. She felt a little excited by this, her pussy twitched as she was chastised. She meekly walked to where she was told.

Mummy Bear grabbed her arm and pulled her over her knees!

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Pulling back with all her might Charlotte could not stop being pulled over. “Don’t you resist me young lady, over now!”

The spanking began almost at once and the girls at the door loved every smack, eagerly waiting their turn to kneel and look through the keyhole at Charlotte’s punishment.

“Ohhhh she is getting a full strength Mummy Bear spanking! Go on Mummy Bear, make her squeal!”

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The blows were fully hard from the onset, Mummy Bear saw no point in building up slowly, this was not a pleasure spanking, it was a punishment. Charlotte began to kick and scream and her legs were close to the violin at one point. “Keep your legs down, if you kick that violin off you will get such a thrashing!”

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The thought of that happening made Mummy Bear decide to move on to a bare bottom spanking, so the dress was pulled up and her open back bloomers pulled apart. The smacks really echoed through the air then, and the girls huddled the other side of the door giggled.

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Mummy Bear heard the giggle and knew it would be very embarrassing for Charlotte. “Yes I can hear them too, I have a good mind to open the door and let them all look! I have seen how aloof you have been with my girls!”

…..smack smack smack, the slaps got harder and firmer.

Charlotte was horrified to know the girls were there and tried hard to stifle her squeals, without success. But at the same time, deep inside, she loved the thought.

….owwww ohhhh oh my bum my bum….owwwwww!

The girls laughed at this point! Even Mummy Bear managed to smile too, despite her concentration.

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By this time every burning smack made  her bottom feel as if it was on fire, she began to kick about again!

“Ohhhh I have had enough of this, kicking about like a little girl, get up!”

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The girls outside knew what was coming, the heavy backed ebony hairbrush. Oh this would hurt a lot, they so wanted to hear the cracks of wood on already sore plump rump flesh! Especially hers!

They soon got their wish, Mummy Bear really let her have it, the brush landed time and time agian, loud cracks and squeals made them all look at each other. Outside the door the girls were now all masturbating in a group to the sound of the haughty girls bare bottom thrashing!

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Mummy Bear was in full flow now, and Charlotte was in burning sore bottom agony, she could not care less about the girls now and screamed and screamed. The whacks got harder as the brush was raised higher and higher. Even at this point a part of her craved and lapped up what was happening.

SMACK….owwwwwwwwwwww

CRACK….howwwwlll

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Mummy bear was now not just spanking her for being a disobedient student, but for being a haughty upper class girl who needed bringing down a peg or two. And for the Chorus Girls too, she wanted them to enjoy this as much as they could.

For poor Charlotte the unthinkable happened then, all the girls were marched in and told to stand in a semi circle, all eight of them, to watch a bare bottom caning of sorts, with the violin bow! Charlottes pussy dripped, despite the pain. She was on show to The Chorus Girls! The very beautiful Chorus Girls.

This is what they saw…

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…her bottom and the top of her thighs were already red raw, surely the violin bow marks would barely be visible, but as the thin bow swang and landed with a loud crack, after each whistle, they saw even deeper red lines rise up on that poor bottom.

This was one of the hardest caning style spankings ever, and they loved it!

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They clapped every stroke and cheered Mummy Bear on.

Charlottes bottom was aglow and she was squealing for England at every viscious cutting crack of the violin bow. It was playing it’s own tune now at the hands of a maestro!

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Now as we all know the last stroke is always the hardest, and this was proved true by Mummy Bear. She took a step back, adjusted her stance and the violin bow almost bent double as it whistled through the air to strike Charlotte’s bottom, her head threw back and her hair shot up under the impact…

whaaaaaaaaaaack…..owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

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Her thrashing was over, she sobbed and said she would always practice from now on. She was made to stay there a while and not allowed to rub her bottom as the girls just stood, with satisfied smiles.

The thrashing over, but a need deep inside Charlotte was lit. Night after night after her thrashing she masturbated as she looked at her fading marks.

She had a dream now… to be a CHORUS GIRL! and be spanked every day if she could!!!

* * *

Charlotte the Naughty Maid

Charlotte is sure she is alone in the big old house where she works.

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She lights a candle, and creeps down one of the creaky corridors and stops at an oak door. She listens, just to make absolutely sure all is safe.  It seems quiet, so gently she opens the door and creeps in.

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Oh good, just as she suspected, all is quiet. She likes this room, it’s exciting to her. She walks over to the dressing table and stands in the silence to smell the fragrance of her Mistress.maid 3 low

She lights the oil lamp and bends down, in her usual delightful manner, to blow out the candle.

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She watches the smoke rise wistfully into the still air and laughs to herself happily.

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The dressing table has the punishment hairbrush which belongs to her lovely Mistress, resting upon it, and she recalls some of the spankings she has received.

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You can see her in the mirror gazing at it.

Her attention then goes to the beautiful dress, and she remembers how her Mistress looked in it, just the other night.

She walks to it and takes it in her arms.

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Her hand slips down to where the soft curvy bottom of her Mistress would be, and she dances around the room with it, holding it close, smelling the exotic perfume.

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Now feeling in a somewhat dreamy state, she hangs the dress back up, and her eyes go to the dressing table, and in particular the spanking brush!

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She caresses the brush and an idea comes into her mind, and not for the first time in this room!

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Oh I think she heard us say those words out loud! Look how naughtily she looks at us. Yes little madam! We know where you are taking us.

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Slowly she watches herself draw up her dress and undergarments.

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To bare that naughty bottom. Now come on Charlotte, you can do better than that, present that bare spankable bottom for us!

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That’s more like it. Oh I love it when she bends over and her pussy shows, don’t you?

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Oh God yesssss!!!

I adore open back bloomers. What an invention! I love the Victorians for creating such styles.

Anyway….

She decides it is time to give herself a spanking, she is rather good at self spanking is our naughty maid Charlotte.

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What a lovely smile, but it soon alters to gasps and squeals as she does it harder…

smack

spank

smack

spank

crack

spank

smack

and harder…

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The spanking left Charlotte the very naughty maid feeling somewhat moist, it was still quiet in the house, so she sat on the chaise longue.

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The candle in the holder looked inviting and naughty, slender and long.

A little song she used to sing with her friends came to mind.

All the nice girls love a candle,

All the nice girls love the wick,

Because there’s some thing, about a candle,

That reminds them of a prick!

Slips in easy

Nice and greasy

It’s a poor gilrs pride and joy

so…. etc etc

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She took it from the holder.

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And examined it very closely, “Oh my, it’s true, they are greasy!”

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She opened her bloomers, and looked from the candle to her pussy.

It didn’t look to big at all, maybe a little long, but…

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She rubbed it up and down her clit, slowly for ages and ages.

The moans she let out were little at first, but slowly grew.

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She held it on the edge of her lips, and slowly slid it in.

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She took the full length and could resist no longer, it began to slide in and out,

in and out,

faster and faster.

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Before long her her arm was moving faster than a fiddlers elbow as she fucked herself hard with it, she moaned even louder as the first signs of orgasm rattled through her clit…

Lets leave her in privacy shall we?

THE END

The Conservatory Girl

Daughters!

Sometimes a delight.

Sometimes a pain in the arse!

More often than not, it’s a pain in theirs!

My dear daughter Charlotte for instance, most of the time she is the type of girl you want to show off to family and friends. A girl to be proud of. Funny, intelligent, polite and pretty. But at other times she just cannot help herself.  I sometimes ask myself if she gets in trouble on purpose, just to get the slipper!

Take the other day for instance. I left her in the house alone, with instructions to be a good girl, and tidy the house. fair enough, she had tidied up, the house looked lovely.

BUT…

Behind our house live two teenage boys , both good looking boys, and a couple of doors away lives  this man, a Mr Jones, he is nice, a little odd at times, but always a gentleman. I have noticed that all three seem to spend a lot of time in the back bedrooms of their houses, almost as if they are looking into my conservatory.

Now in between the two afore mentioned houses is the epitomy of a ‘Mrs Busybody’! The type of woman who misses nothing. Mrs. Wimpole,  (yes the name suits her doesn’t it?!)

She has told me that my daughter exposes herself in the conservatory. Of course I told her not to be silly, but all the same, it would explain why the two boys and the man look wouldn’t it?

Anyway, I dismissed it as just being her causing trouble.

But alas, I was wrong.

It seems that after tidying up, naughty Charlotte had time on her hands. And as the saying goes…’the devil makes work for idle hands!’

It seems she wandered into the conservatory and saw the two boys and Mr Jones looking again.

It also seems that all three were there, waiting for what I know now to have been a regular show!

By all accounts she walked around in a provocative way, making it obvious she knew that they were looking.

Then! Can you believe it, she sits in the wicker chair and starts to masturbate! Taking her time and toying with them.

After talking to all concerned it appears she used a cushion to rub herself against whilst they looked. And don’t forget, she is in her school uniform!

Wiggling her bottom at them, both in her large white school knickers, and also without them!

I had no idea this was going on, of course. But who should decide to have a look out of the window? Mrs. Wimpole.

Without further ado she rings me as I am driving home, and tells me.

She even threatened to call the police!

I assured her that all was well and that I was only two minutes away. I was so angry!

I pulled up a little down the road, so as not to alert my naughty daughter and stormed up to the back door, and sure enough, there she was!

I could hear her moans as I approached, so I would not be at all surprised if my neighbours on both sides had been listening too. I was so embarrassed.

I stood in shock, I could hardly believe my eyes!

There she was, close to orgasm, rubbing the pillow with her pussy very hard and fast!

I stood for a few seconds and coughed loudly!

She turned in absolute shock. Obviously the two boys, Mr Jones, and Mrs. Wimpole could all see, and they all laughed uproariously as she was caught. Mrs Wimpole even clapped in delight!

To make matters worse, MUCH WORSE! she shouted…

“Oh fucking hell, it’s my Daddy!”

The laughter reached a new crescendo.

She started to pull her school panties up, in desperation, and some stupid idea of modesty!

I told her not to even think about doing so!

and called her over to me…

I sat down and gave her a good telling off, much louder than needed really, but I wanted them all to hear.

“Mrs Wimpole was right then, you come in here to masturbate before the two boys over there, and it seems Mr. Jones is not averse to having a look either! I am ashamed of you Charlotte.”

“I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Oh you will be! Come here!”

“If you want to show your bottom off to everyone, you can do, whilst you wait!”

“Wait for what Daddy?” Replied a very worried looking young Charlotte.

“A spanking! What do you think?”

Mrs Wimpole began to clap in delight again.

“Put your hands on your head, and show them what a naughty young silly girl you are.”

 

I continued to chastise her, and then told her to bend over.

She looked to the boys, then to Mr Jones, and heard Mrs Wimpole laugh and shout, “Make sure she does not sit down for a week!”

At which she bent right over, in submission to her fate.

“Right I am going for the slipper, you stay like that!”

The slipper is an old heavy leather one I use for spanking. I took a very long time fetching it too, so that she could feel some humiliation.

I returned and said…”Right then young lady, get over my knee!”

Nervously she did so.

I began with my hand on her bare upturned bottom. The smacks echoed in the conservatory, so too did her wails of anguish and pain. I did not start off at all lightly, this was meant to hurt and I spanked by hand until my palm hurt.

Then I took up the slipper and let her have it hard for a good ten minutes, during which she…

… squealed and begged for mercy, but I carried on relentlessly.

But I did not stop until her bottom was crimson.

In other words, she had what we call here in England, ‘A jolly good over the knee bare bottom spanking!”

She was sent to bed then, with no supper. In the morning when she left for school, news had spread fast on the street. I made her walk to school, and I imagine it was a very embarrassing journey!

THE END