All posts by AsaJones

The Countess Blush

Every girl in the remote village of Wellingbeck had been told not to venture into the forest over many generations. Tales and songs about the woods and its frightening inhabitants have sent a chill down many a young maidens spine on cold winter evenings.

There was a little rhyme often said at Halloween, between girls…

Nearly every girl in the village had heeded the warning for centuries …nearly every girl. But every generation had one girl who didn’t, and this generation was no different. The girl who released the Vampire ‘Countess Blush’ onto the generation of her time was Samantha.

The stories of  Brocklehurt House had fascinated her since she first heard of it at the age of seven, and by the age of fourteen she had amassed quite a collection of books about it. At school that year she had done a presentation in assembly about it, and got the highest marks for her year, and an award.

This cycle of seven year happenings was how it worked, not that she knew it at the time. The ‘chosen ones’ over the ages never did, why should they? And so it was, led by unseen guiding hands, at the age of twenty one, that curiosity led her to buy her first pack of tarot cards.

At the age of twenty eight it was the cards that told her to go to the woods.

The woods. Not just any woods, but the forbidden woods.

Nobody went to these woods alone, not even in the daytime.

Nobody in their right mind would go alone at night.

Nobody, not anybody, would go alone at Halloween.

Would they?

Yes, one headstrong independant girl, in each generation would probably do just that, and occassionally one did.

October 31st saw Samantha, with torch in hand, alone, in the woods.

To be precise, she was stood exactly where she should not be. She was stood in shock, staring.

Staring at Brocklehurst House. The house that was supposed to be an empty ruin.

Frozen in fear, her feet were unable to move. A light had just come on in an upstairs room.

The beacon of yellow light should not move, well, maybe if it was a lighthouse it would. But this was not a tower protecting sailors, it was a spookey house in the deep dark woods, and fog was descending like a thin shroud thrown over a body. The light began to traverse, towards her… and now she stood, bathed in its light.

I suppose that would be enough to root anyone to the spot.

Yet it wasn’t that.  It was the voice. Not just any voice either, it was the voice she had heard every time she had used the cards. But today it was outside her body, not inside her head. The sweet sensual voice of Countess Blush.

It did not say anything horrid, far from it. All it did was greet her. “Hello Samantha, I’ve been waiting for you.”

That is why she was stood as still as a rabbit ensnared in the headlights of an oncoming car, unable to move.

She was not able to move until the light began to slowly move away from her, along the path leading to the door. She followed it, it was as if it had a collar around her neck, drawing her closer to the door.

She should have listened to the warnings. She should have taken notice of the stories.

But it was too late.

She was stood at the door, the partly open, sun parched, cracked old door. As seductive as an open cunt is to an erect throbbing manhood, she could not resist entering. She slid between its lips easily, to enter a warm moist passageway.

Before her was a wood panelled hallway, with stout doors on either side, and at the end of the hallway was a staircase. Before realising it, she was climbing the treads one by creaking one. The bannister rail with its curled end was like a long cold arm reaching towards her, the curled end like a hooked finger beckoning.  Thirteen steps later she was at the top, and three doors stood before her. She moved to the one on the right, it’s door handle was not dusty like the other two. She gripped her trembling hand around the loose I’ll fitting brass doorknob, and turned it.

Seconds later, not knowing when she had removed her clothes, she was naked, and falling asleep in a beautiful warm bedroom.

Beautiful slumber, like she had never known before, enveloped her like the amniotic fluid of a mothers womb.

She felt safe.


Below her, not under the bed, but under the stairs in an old air raid shelter put there during World War I, sat the Countess. The old shelter was a sort of small gateway, the gateway between the ruin, and the past, where she could wander the ruin, but nowhere else. She was sat with her Deck of cards, the same type of deck that Samantha owned. By her on the table were three Chinese coins, an aid to her use of the I-Ching.

Earlier that night as the light had found her, she had spoken through the door that led to the old ruin.

“Hello Samantha, I’ve  been waiting for you.”

As the girl made her way to the door The Countess Blush sat down at her divination table, where her runes, cards and three Chinese coins awaited her skilled use. They rested atop a thousand year old, hand painted divination board. One painted by the countess herself.

Yes, you heard right. The Countess was a thousand years old, and that is why a twenty eight year old beautiful woman seemed like a girl to her that night.

She sat down and took the cards, the first one had to be chosen from four queens. Samantha was given the ‘Queen of Wands’ that fateful night.

One by one the cards were placed, as the girl walked down the hallway and up the stairs.

One by one the cards were interpreted as the girl climbed nearer the bedroom door.

As Samantha opened the door Countess Blush drew the card she knew would be there and smiled.

‘The Lovers’  a beautiful card was placed on the board as Samantha’s tiny, tight, white cotton knickers slid down  her thighs, then her calfs to land on the floor.

Countess Blush sensed them land, and listened as Samantha slumped to the bed, naked and waiting. She could smell her prey like a wolf could smell blood over a great distance, but it was not blood but the aroma of her love juices, which at that very moment dribbled from her engorged lips to dampen the bedspread. The damp little patch began to grow.

Countess changed, her countenance and demeanour altered, she lowered herself to the floor like a cat, and leaped gracefully and silently on to her cushions. Then like a spider scurrying quickly along she moved to the doorway  of the shelter.

She looked up and began to creep stealthily like a fox, up from the cellar, through the kitchen and into the wood panelled hallway, to reach the stairs.

She could hear the girl breathing as she climbed.

Half between this world and then next, her spherical shape slid like a snake, leaving ribbons of what looked like ectoplasm trailing behind her.

Samantha slept like a baby and when the vampire loomed out of the shadows atop the stairs, she had no idea of the peril, just yards away.

Through the bedroom door she slid, as she turned back to her usual, sensual, curvy, self.

Still Samantha had no idea.

Samantha was doomed, her sexual fate of submissive slavery sealed. Their was no escape from the room or her fate. Slowly, quietly, The Countess Blush closed in on her feast.

“Turn your bottom towards me, present yourself to your Mistress.”

Samantha rolled over, and slid her delicious cheeks towards the teeth of her Mistress.

Mistress Blush let her hand glide along the quilt towards the full ripe bottom before her.

Ohhhh the warmth of her bottom felt like nectar to her. The touch was Devine, The Countess Blush drooled at the sight.

She caressed her lovely bottom and Samantha moaned in pure pleasure

Countess Blush could smell the juices dribbling from Samantha’s slit, it was like some heady, exotic Oriental perfume, and she need to touch it, to drink on it…to feast on it. “Open your legs my pretty slave, let me taste you.”

Her hands and soft seductive whispered words began to tease the legs of her helpless victim open. “Open them my precious, show yourself.”

“Come on my sweet little rose, show me you nectar, open your petals, let my tongue be your busy little bee.”

She used her hand to gently open the swollen labia. “Do you want me to slide my fingers in you?”

Samantha began to thrust her groin slightly in an intoxicating rhythm. “Yes my beautiful Mistress, I want to feel your caress within me.”

“Tell me again my pet, tell me what you need from Mistress Blush.” As she spoke her long tongue licked.

“Oh my Mistress, please, finger me Mistress.” This was the moment when Samantha saw her Mistress for the first time, and she fell deeply into her eyes.

“Oh I will.” Whispered Mistress Blush the Vampire, as the legs of Samantha opened willingly like her heart did, to new love and hope.

Gently at first, Mistress began to rub Samatha on her hard little clitoris, as she spoke.

“Do you like me to rub your pussy Samantha?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Do you like my finger to slip in like this?”

“Oh fucking hell! Yes, yes I do!”

“Don’t swear. That is naughty.”

Mistress stopped rubbing. Samantha tried to push down on her beautiful fingers again, but tormentingly the skilful Mistress kept them just out of reach.

The picture on the wall, the ancient artwork of the first Vampire in the Blush Dynasty, turned its head to see the tormented soul lost in temptation before her.

“Of course my pretty little slave, you know what naughty girls get don’t you?”

“Spankings Mistress?”

“Yes, my fallen angel, spankings! Would you like Mistress to spank you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Ask me, beg me.”

“Please Mistress, spank me! I need a spanking, pleeeeease Mistress!”

“Then arise my naughty slave and present yourself.”

The Vampire stood, looking magnificent as the light illuminated her profile.

Samantha presented herself, her beautiful strawberry blonde hair cascading down her back and shouted loud. “I’m a naughty slave Mistress, spank me, spank me.”

The vampire’s teeth grew, long slender and sharp, like a cat’s, as she looked at the tempting, wriggling, desperate bottom before her.


Samantha caught sight of Edith, the Grandmother of Countess Blush in the frame next to her. It’s black and white eyes and face turned towards her as Samantha, in all her naked glory begged for more.

The Countess spanked her, making her cheeks blush.

Slowly at first, cheek to cheek, she watched as her bottom wobbled at each smack. Drinking in the sight before her.

She began to concentrate on one cheek, the one nearest to her, the left one.

Her left hand was delicately placed above her bottom, althoug sweetly poised and elegant, it held its grip, Samantha’s bottom was firmly locked in place.

Her aim narrowed as she began to spank vigorously in one spot. She waited for the sign of a kicking leg of a spankee’s leg, bending at the knee.

Then with a flurry of smack she concentrated on what she called her spanking cherry, a tiny area which she spanked quickly with her finger tips to create a cherry red.

This was the ‘Cherry Blush’.

Her whole vision became consumed by it. She reared up and stared at the spot where the blood had risen to the surface. She took aim, her mouth opened as spittle stretched a yarn like a spider’s web between her upper and lower teeth.

She bit the beautiful soft inviting cheek of Samantha’s bottom, and Samantha yelped like a puppy being trod on. The Countesses cat like teeth locked in and she sucked.

She sucked blood, for five minutes or more, making a noise like a child with a soother, or a lollipop, until she was full.

She released her grip and studied her mark on the flesh.

Blood began to trickle down in two lines.


She traced the two lines until they stopped and talked to the shape of her own mouth. “You are mine now, you belong to the Blush Dynasty…forever.”

Samantha orgasmed, like never before, and replied. “Yes Mistress.”

The Countess stood, and twirled the hair of her new daughter, and pulled. “Follow me, my pretty girl.”

“Yes Mistress.” Came the meek and mild reply.

Her bottom hurt from the bite as she moved, and she loved it. Slowly she climbed from the bed, to  be tugged by the hair, and out of the door.

Just a few short steps took them to another small room. The Countess opened the door and dimly lit in a recess was a religious art work, many years old. “Surely”, thought Samantha,”… it is a Saint.”

“Go and stand facing away from the picture, press your bottom to the cool canvas.”commanded her Mistress.

Samantha almost had two minds working at once, one a questioning mind, the other one submitting to a new world with new experiences.

She knew she was in the forbidden ruin.

She knew she was entering a new existence.

She pressed back onto the cold hard oil paint, the bite in her bottom stung as she did so.

She smiled.

“You are at a gateway Samantha, behind him is the world you knew. Before you is my world.”

Samantha understood, somehow she knew she was stood behind a metal gate of sorts, like a portcullis.

It was daylight now in her old world. The only thing on the other side of the portcullis was the ruin. Rooks cawed, but nothing and nobody was near. It stood as it did every day, forlorn, and uninviting.


The Countess Blush continued with her first conversation and instruction. “This used to be the gateway out of our Kingdom, but the church blocked it in the 1500’s. He…” She pointed to the Saint “…is the Guardian. We cannot get by him. We are destined to be able to wander our ruin and no more in their world.”

Samantha frowned. “What about the way I came in?”

“Exactly. A way in. He cannot stop anyone coming in. Like you.. Neither could he stop us wandering our own world when we wish.” Smiled the Countess.

She continued, thoughtfully. “There is something you need to do, but first, kiss me.”

They kissed and fondled before the Saint, it made them feel decadent and delightfully  terrible.

Fingers tugged pubic hair and cupped beautiful soft firm breasts as bodies were explored.

At that exact moment in the offices of ‘The Welbeck Times’ an investigative reporter named Kate was researching her latest assignment about the legends surrounding the local woods and mysterious disappearances of various young ladies. She was a good photographer, and was planning a trip to the old ruin in the woods.

As Kate made frantic exciting notes about the most exciting and alluring case she had ever been assigned, the two vampires embraced.

“I want to show you something, bend down, look at these old books  Samantha.”

Samantha loved hearing the Countess use her name.

They bent down to look.

Under construction….more soon! Keep popping back…





Rosie Bottom’s Blushing Buns Cafe – Part Two

if you haven’t done so, I should read part one first to get a feel of the scenario.



Unbeknown to the girls, a few days before all what had happened, and  realising her waitresses behaviour was getting steadily worse, Rosie had decided that spanking the waitresses by hand was not really enough. Neither for them or her.

Both the girls and herself had needs, Dominant and submissive needs, that were not being met, so, she had sent off for a few catalogues, and found that a company called  seemed to have the best selection. She ordered two tawses and a cane.

They had soon arrived and were put into her office. She anticipated that one day she would call them in for discipline, and there before them on the desk, would be the punishment implements.

After spanking the girls by hand, on their bare bottoms before the customers, for their disgraceful behaviour, she went to her office. Surely after being publicly punished, she could leave them alone whilst she did some paperwork.

‘My word, they are in for a surprise soon!’ She thought.

She took her cafe blouse off and slipped into her office top, she hated the smell of cooking being brought into the office, so she put it in a small locker

She had got on rather well with the man who sold them to her, and decided to let him know of their impending usage. She called ‘Ouch’.. “Hello, is that Mr.. Tersley? Oh hello Roy, it’s Rosie Bottom from the Blushing Buns  Cafe, I am just ringing up to say that the punishment implements you make are excellent and will be used sooner than expected, much sooner in fact, the girls I spoke of have been very naughty and are in for a shock!”

A delighted and amused Roy Tersley thanked her for the call and said a report of their use would be appreciated, and if she was willing could  he use her words on the web site recommendations page.

She agreed, and after doing her work, followed by a coffee, she slipped back into her work attire, picked up all three implements, and returned to the cafe, and so the story resumes from where we left off in Part One…


 Kate bent over as instructed.  The girls could see the new tawses, the smell of freshly tanned leather filled the air. Kate pleaded for mercy as soon as she saw the harsh looking implements. 

“Oh Mistress, please, that looks terrifying! Please, don’t, I’m sorry, very sorry….pleeeeease!”

“It’s time you  learned a real lesson Kate!”

Charlene walked to the cafe counter nonchalantly , leaned against it and laughed. “Spank her hard with them Mistress, make her dance, she’s a naughty girl isn’t she Mistress?”

Rosie glanced at her and tutted. “Quiet!” Then slowly pulled down Kate’s knickers to just below her beautiful ample bottom.

Charlene sulked and sat down to watch Kate get spanked with the tawse, it looked cruel, yet strangely beautiful.

Kate looked over her shoulder with a worried look, as her Mistress tapped it lightly against her vulnerable cheeks, to take aim.

“My hand is not enough for you two, it is time for some serious discipline and training! It is time that leather and rattan began to kiss your cheeks!”


The tawse was a virgin implement no longer as it struck those pale globes with force, a resounding smack echoed around the empty cafe. Soon followed by a squeal.”


She raised it again and delivered another five in quick succession. Kate jumped about screaming and begging, but Rosie just ignored her pleas and delivered a good sound punishment.




“Right! Swop places! You are getting six more than Kate, because you started it Charlene!”

Charlene was horrified. “No Mistress, please no, no, no!”

“CHARLENE! Get here..NOW!”

They changed places, and Kate sat down gingerly, with a wince of pain. She looked at her rival. “Not so clever now are you! Spank her good and proper Mistress.”

And of course, Rosie did just that, with more vigour and more strokes of the leather tawsee, than Katie got!

Katie delighted in the spectacle before her as Charlene jumped from foot to foot wriggling and squealing.

The new shiny leather tawse whistled through the air and cracked repeatedly on her naughty plump cheeks.

How Katie loved it. She did not know which end to look at. The screwed up squealing, crying face, or the wobbling, bouncing reddening cheeks. She settled for alternate looks at each! Right up to the last, extra hard, echoing



Panting for breath, Rosie stopped. “Now you can see what is in store for you both in the future! You both need punishments like this more often, and more training. And I don’t mean waitress training. Tomorrow night it is back here, both of you naked. For some obedience training! Now off you go!”

They both left sulkily, but deep down they had both drank their punishments up like hungry puppies drank warm cream.

The next day in the cafe went well, no spankings, no tellings off, all in all it was quite uneventful… That is, until the evening, when after work, in twilight, the cafe once again took on a delightful warm hue, and Mistress greeted the girls.

“Hello my little beauties, you have done well today, well done. Now both of you, strip!”

The naughty waitresses did as they were told, and stripped.

“Now kneel, side by side.”

the naughty waitresses did as they were told, and knelt.

Mistress Rosie calmly walked up behind them and slipped a rope leash around each of their necks. Which they loved. “Now my little girls, tonight you are my ponies. Tonight is all about obedience. Understood?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“You will obey each command I give,  as quickly as possible, if I am not satisfied your new ‘attitude correctors’ will come out to kiss your lily white plump cheeks again. Now…kiss each other.”

Instantly the girls did so, much to the delight of the beautiful Rosie Bottom.

Her precious girls, like two little fillies were naked before her, her Domme dreams fulfilled.

“Tell Mistress how much you like being my submissives.”

The girls looked to each other and told Mistress how much they loved her, how they adored her strict ways, her voice, her legs, her face, her clothes. They told her how they love to serve, to be controlled and told what to do.

“Perfectly put my little ponies. And talking of ponies…” She giggled. “I want to ride you. Charlene, put your hands up, Katie, get on all fours!”

Rosie clicked her tongue. “Giddy up girls!”

The girls whinnied and bucked up and down.

“Come on, trot faster!”

Mistress rubbed her pussy hard on the ridge of Kate’s lower spine and galloped until she had an orgasm, watching Charlene’s bottom bounce faster and faster as commanded.

She stayed there for a full five minutes, breathing deeply in recovery time. The cafe was quiet, warm and still. The two Submissives in particular loved this tranquil moment in time, which slowly etched itself indelibly into their memories as the cafe clock ticked loudly.

“Now then my little pets, ahem…” She coughed as she put her voice back in its commanding tone.

The girls giggled.

Mistress frowned.

“Up you get my little ponies! I want you prancing, and keep the knees high!”

The waitresses noticed a subtle change in her voice, not cruel, but more assertive, they grew nervous and sexually excited. This voice signified arousal and flogging. They loved it!

The girls pranced for their Mistress like highly trained Austrian display horses.


Looking aloof, and totally in control, Mistress Rosie watched their every step. “Faster my pretty fillies, dance for your Mistress!”

Out of breath the girls were allowed to stop. Mistress took her turn to delight in heavy breathing. The clock seemed to tick louder..





“You have been spanked recently, as you know. But now your Mistress has a selfish need to punish you.”

She knew that both girls had their own selfish needs, to be punished.

“to the counter…NOW!”

Both girls trotted over immediately.

Mistress tied their leashes high. The ownership of their bottoms was now in Rosie’s possession. They wanted her to do exactly as she pleased with them, their bodies were hers, they wanted to please her.

Mistress went for her crop, and stood looking at them. “This is going to hurt, you are going to scream, writhe and wriggle. There is only one person who decides for how long, how many, how hard…understood?”

Both girls agreed willingly, and nervously. They were totally hers.

This was a moment in time that even the girls would struggle to explain.

…for a Domme this moment is precious and beautiful to their eyes, it helps to satisfy her needs. The sight of two naked girls, struggling, wriggling and writhing like snakes. Vulnerable and eposed with no defence or way of escape. Their bottoms hers, to punish as they scream.

…for the girls it was that feeling of being restrained, helpless and under control. The fear that here in this room, this cafe, right now, their life’s choices, nor their bottoms, were their own. They were owned. Fear of pain, fear of not pleasing, and not knowing how  hard or how long the thrashing would be.

Both parties of this arrangement though, were exactly where and how they wanted to be.

Their bottoms felt extremely vulnerable and exposed. They could see Rosie’s eyes focussed on their cheeks. She meant business.

Rosie positioned herself.

She took them by surprise, the first strokes were delivered hard and fast, only seconds between each one.

Mistress stood back to observe them, as slowly they settled. The stripes on their bottom excited her, her power over them at moments like this were what she craved more than anything. “Beg for more you dirty little bitches, you know you want it!”

They begged helplessly, not for mercy, but for more.

She he knew exactly how she wanted them and adjusted their posture, until their bottoms were perfectly placed for the next onslaught.

“Perfect, now keep them at that height when I lay this crop on your naughty cheeks.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Yes Mistress.”

She walked in time to the ticking clock which suddenly filled their senses.

Imagine how they felt…

Two young women who both knew exactly what they are at the right age. Too many let the world know  too late in life, but not these. They listened to the caressing voice of their Mistress, strict and in control. They picked up on every key word or phrase. They needed her, they wanted to please her, they wanted to thrust their bottoms out for punishment, to be afraid yet, at the same time yearn for the very same pain they feared.

And their Domme, drinking the sight before her like a vampire drinking blood. The submissive looks and meek mild voices fuelled her passion. The way they thrust out made her drip. The act of whacking those pert rumps, seeing then quiver and the girls scream, yet push up again, and again were life’s blood to her soul.

She stood to their left, and thrashed them hard.

Her body shape in the perfect caning pose thrilled them.

The whistle and crack of the crop terrified and excited them.

Rosie was in full flow.

A magnificent Domme.

…when the two delicious bottoms before her were suitably striped, and the girls had stopped shuddering and whimpering Rosie summoned them to her side.

She caressed their beautifully curved buttocks with the crop as she spoke.

“You have satisfied my craving, you are the best two submissive’s a Domme could wish for. Do I make you happy?”

Both girls replied eagerly.

“Oh yes Mistress, you are perfect!”

“Yes, she’s right, we adore you, and how you treat us. We need punishment, and we are so glad you got the new things. They hurt tremendously, we will enjoy fearing them.”

Rosie laughed. “You do both say the most wonderful things, that is why I love you both…equally.”

Both girls squirmed wiith pleasure, and then winced as Rosie said “Come on, girls, this way!” And cracked the crop across their cheeks.

She led them to the drink store and told them to get glasses and a bottle of their choice.

As they chose their drink Rosie stripped naked and sat at a table. Together they sat and toasted their good fortune at finding each other.

Kate said, “Oh Mistress, we only fetched two glasses!”

Rosiie picked up the bottle and took a swallow. “Oh good! Another reason to spank you! But not tonight. Let’s drink these and then go upstairs to bed and drink each other.”





The Inveigle – Chapter Two – The Misadventures of Molly the Victorian Maid

Unlike my other stories which are illustrated using photos I have taken in my studio, this chapter will use a lot of my vintage photo collection.

THE ‘INVEIGLE’ STORY IS STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION, (although fifteen chapters are drafted, and I think it could well end up a trilogy)

I suggest you read ‘THE INVEIGLE’ intro and chapter one, but not necessarily so, THIS IS ACTUALLY CHAPTER TWO. You will find it here…




My name is Molly Jones.

I remember the day I arrived at ‘The Beeches’, a beautiful large family house on the outskirts of the town I had grown up in. I walked up the long copper beech lined drive with Miss Markham, the owner of the orphanage and ragged school I had quite happily attended, she had given me a book as a present and as I read what she had written to me I cried. But I knew we would still see each other and excitement took over.

As I approached it, the sheer size of the grand gothic mansion frightened me.

It was the family home of the Rumptons, who had made a fortune from coal and the developments of the industrial revolution.

Now it was the home of Reginald Rumpton a prolific and quite famous  artist, and his wife Gloria who had raised a family of ten daughters, including a set of twins who lived there, with a huge array of downstairs staff. Mainly female.

You will meet them all, and I hope you will enjoy the many encounters and adventures that befall us all as my narrative unfolds.

I have worked here, and The Inveigle, for many years now, and would not want to be anywhere else in the world. This is a story of spanking, lots of lovely Victorian spankings. They will unfold before you like the parting of a pair of open back bloomers, but for now be patient with me, let’s go back to the beginning of my time here.

I mentioned briefly my time at school, there I was punished many times. An experience that I could never say was too distasteful, in fact, many times it was just the opposite. Even at the end of a long beating I can still recall pushing my bottom up for the next stroke. It could be said I suppose that spanking is within me, it is something I crave along with everything that goes with it, from being caught and chastised, all the way through to corner time and humiliation. I suppose that is why my time at school was to me, at least a good time. I could never understand the fuss some of the girls made when being beaten on the bare bottom.

Maybe I am a little strange, but if I was, so we’re quite a few others!

Talking of my bottom, I have been blessed with an extraordinarily beautiful one. A curvy rump perfect for spanking. In my childhood I discovered the delights of self spanking in a mirror whilst using my other hand to masturbate. Nothing much has changed ever since, apart from the number of different people and implements that now serve my need.

And that is it. I need spanking, I desire it, I crave it. I love it. I love everything about it, like I have just said, all of it, from the chastisement and baring of my rump, to the pain, to the corner time, all mixed in with a heaping dose of humiliation please!

Prior to coming to the ‘Beeches’ it was as if my life was a drawing, where I spent a great deal of time imagining spankings. After that wonderful day, my life became an array of real life sumptuous spanking in all their glory.

Let me tell you all about it.

I know now what this place is, a disguise for some kind of spanking emporium, a punishment bordello almost! A place where the outside world is kept away, and only those with a deep rooted sado-masochistic instinct are allowed. Either to live, serve or visit. Miss Markham is a regular visitor to this day, and I found out later in life that she, and many other clients like her were actually a sort of grooming parlour for would be maids. Those with the ‘push the bottom up’ attitude were observed and finally selected.

But of course when I arrived I had no such inkling.

I was greeted by the Housekeeper, a Mrs Fletcher, a kindly looking soul whom I found to be stern but fair, and the best pastry cook in England. She showed me to my room and calmed my nerves. Then she did the best thing anyone ever did to me, she introduced me to Rose, who was to become my lifelong best friend and lover. She just left me at the old dark brown stained panelled door, and gave me a key. “In you go my lovely, it’s time to meet your room mate.” She walked away laughing, leaving me quite breathless.

“Good grief! I had my own key!”

I walked in and there sat on our sofa, as bold as brass, showing her stocking tops was Rose.

“Hello Molly, my name is Rose, I hope we get on, because we will sleep together in here, and I am to show you the ropes ‘n all.”

She turned, and I blushed. I could not take my eyes off her crutch and the most marvellous knickers I had ever seen!

“Oh I can see what you are looking at you naughty girl! I think we will get on fine!” She said wagging her finger. “I am a good judge of people, I think we will get along fine and dandy.”

Anyone who looked like her, called me a naughty girl and wagged her finger, was always going to be a big hit with me! That was it, from that day on we were unseparable soul mates, what on earth had we done without each other!

She took me down to the kitchen, where we met many other maids, all curious in me, and all lovely. We had hot chocolate, and the most delicious apple pie ever. I wolfed it down as she watched.

“Bloody hell, hungry then.” She laughed.

She told me a lot about the place and the people, I just could not keep up. Soon my eyes were almost shut, her voice was like summer rain falling gently from the sky, it just tinkled along at a steady entertaining pace, that you could let wash over you all day long.

“Come on Molly, big day tomorrow, we are off shopping!”

She took me upstairs, we had a little chat and then I fell into bed, the next thing I knew it was 6 o’clock in the morning and she was having a wash. “We are off to get you kitted out in your uniform today Molly. We will be out all day, so you can tell me all about yourself. I have been given money and we are allowed an hour for lunch in a cafe.”

I had never been in a cafe, nor in many shops truth be told.

We went to an outfitters that specialised in women’s wear, undergarments, and maids uniforms.

Next door was a place that specialised in bloomers and corsets.

I had had never felt so special, it seems the Rumptons were good customers and greatly respected.

We stopped for lunch, and went to ‘Higgingbottoms’ a very well to do establishment. I had never seen so many glasses, cutlery or China on a table. I was nervous at first, but had been brought up well and managed more than adequately. Plus Rose was wonderful at it, she even tipped the waitress.

Then we went back in for my fittings, and before long I was stood showing myself to Rose in my underwear!

In my bloomers and corset too.

My waist had never been so tiny, nor my hips so ‘child bearingly capable’!

Then finally I showed her my maids outfit.

“Oh they are going to love you!” Shouted Rose in glee.

I was not quite sure who ‘they’ were, I presumed it to mean the other staff.

Then off we went home, I felt happy, I felt that I was starting to belong to somewhere, and… I had a key of my very own!

The first two months were spent meeting the family and other maids as I learned my more mundane duties.

These were such things as, holding the chamber pot as I helped my new Mistresses with their toilet. This often led to trimming of the lady garden

I love washing and bathing the ladies of the house, especially drying and powdering their delicate little creases.

Dressing them, and handling the beautiful clothes was always a joy, and I became quite adept at doing hair and helping pick jewelry that matched.

Chores too! I learnt how to cook, not as good as Mrs Fletcher, but not bad at all really.

The latest thing is a new type of cleaner, it is ever so modern and uses electric to create something called a varicuum or something like that. Anyway it sucks up muck!

Rose showed me how to use it, in her usual naughty manner!

So that was my training in household duties, and we all worked hard as maids. But, when the lights went off, or there were parties, or one of the ladies of the house had a fancy, then things were altogether different!

Firstly it was our room, I mean Rose and my bedroom. We soon got to know each other intimately. Firstly by naughty talk about spankings, then about how it feels nice to rub our cunts.

Rose taught me that word!

We show each othe our cunts in candle light as we masturbate, talking naughty or reading the naughty penny dreadful type comic books. Sometimes we even had friends in and we all did it.

Oh the orgasms as we finger each other as others look are fantastic. And knowing that at the same time it is happening in other rooms makes it so naughty and erotic.

Some nights we writhe together like snakes, nobody quite sure who is fingering who, or what hole, sometimes we finger and lick bottoms too.

Getting to know everyone in the large house was lovely, the other maids were all so charming, and the sisters just as nice, and naughty! I often saw them with maids, or friends and even each other getting up to all sorts of frolics!

Talking of the girls, one of the first spankings I saw at the Beeches was of Beatrice, one of the older girls who was always daydreaming. We all love her, she writes wonderful spanking stories and sometimes reads them to us. She also knows some fine artists who illustrates them for her.

She had been late to finishing school, and was warned not to be late again,  but the next day she walked off with her head in the clouds as always! It wasn’t as if she dawdled, she actually took great strides, in a determined way, but not always in the right direction. She sort of meandered briskly!

She went through the park as she often did, but when warned not to be late is was probably not the best idea she had made in her life.

Before she knew it, she was late again and the familiar sight of her running to finishing school amused many who knew her and saw her. “Late again Beatrice?”

“Oh bother, yes! I am afraid I am!”

Her sisters had arrived home first later in the day after finishing school, and of course told their Mummy about Beatrice. Their Mummy, Mrs.Rumpton,  had been embarrassed a few times before, having to stand there in front of Miss Holyhead hearing about her daughter’s failings.

I was lucky that day, I was polishing the bannister rail when she came through the front door, her head hanging in shame, to hand a note to her Mummy.

Lady Rumpton erupted, and without delay dragged her upstairs by the ear, to her bedroom. I felt in the way, but with no escape I ran before them!

She gave her a long bare bottom spanking, with me looking on from the landing. What with the door open the smacks and her squeals echoed down to the entrance hall where I could hear her sisters giggling.

Afterwards I just stood there, not knowing what to do.

The Mistress of the house pushed by me, as Beatrice lay sobbing on her bed. I walked in and asked if I could help. She looked up at me and smiled through her big brown eyes and asked me to rub some soothing cream on her bottom.

She still had her lovely hat on. The smell of her was like a summers day in a meadow, her fine scarlet bottom was raised and sore as gently I rubbed the cream in. She thrust at me and I just could not resist letting my finger tips brush her pussy.

Before long our fingers were in each other and we kissed.

We moved over to this lovely green a white chair by the window, where our legs spread wide open.

First I fingered her to orgasm, then she me. I stayed for three hours, and nobody missed me!

That shows how important I was to the house doesn’t it?! Nobody missed me!!

But that is how it was, little dalliances where happening everywhere, it was normal, and nobody minded at all. Unless of course you were to be somewhere important, and I wasn’t.

The house was a heaven on earth. A place where women were not afraid to kiss women, and where behind the scenes, class and position did not matter. We were truely Bohemian.

One of the most exciting people on earth is Abigail she is the oldest daughter and performs on stage as a Masher. It seems she is descended from a famous lady who also performed on stage, she calls herself ABIGAIL Hayes on stage.

When a young woman is besotted with another, they are said to be mashed, especially schoolgirls. It was from this saying that the term ‘masher’ grew to mean a music hall girl who dressed as a man. A gentleman usually, in top hat and tails, probably with a rose in the lapel, and even a monocle.

Abigail is quite famous and has an army of adoring fans and the most I teresting group of friends ever! Many from the circus!

Her fans would come to see her hoping for a kiss or more, and their wishes were nearly always granted!

She arranged for a group of circus performers to come and give us a private show, a sort of erotic circus! She said that this would be the birth of an idea she wants to put her considerable wealth into, something she will call..


We had no idea what she meant, we just listened captivated.

We all gathered together in the main dining hall which had a conservatory leading to the beautiful lawns where a big top had been erected! It started with the best pair of hips I had ever seen. Abigail got us all singinging along to ‘the girl I love is up in the gallery’. We all clapped the melody as she dressed in her masher outfit, started swinging this delicious girl to and fro on a low trapeze! Smacking her bottom on her return swing in time to the music. We all shouted ‘More more!’ And then she shouted for a volunteer.

Rose got up and ran out, getting undressed!

She shouted to me as she ran out, “I’m not missing a chance of a flamboyant public spanking from Mistress Abigail”

So soon, to another well known, but ruder song, they all began again to ‘all the nice girls love a candle’. Both girls having their bottom smacked as they swang to and fro, we cheered every smack!

Rose ran back to cuddle up to me naked, someone threw us a blanket and said ‘Behave yourselves under there!’

We didn’t. It was wonderful having her naked by my side all afternoon.

The trapeze act continued with a naked girl who asked for a girl to come out and lick her pussy at the end of  her act. They both left together to many wolf whistles and cheeky comments!

Abigail then sang another song for us, it was surreal. A wooden hoop descended and up she climbed. She straddled it and sang until she had an orgasm! Her pussy was right over the hoop as it swung to and fro, it was so sexual, and beautiful, I will never forget it. She kept singing, and her face as she began to cum was so sexy!

She climbed down to be greeted by a still tranquil silence, we all knew we had seen something special, we were in awe of her. Her face shone in the limelight, due to her sweating, it was one hell of an orgasm. Then we all applauded.

She then spoke calmly to the room as she straddled a chair, with a whip in her hand. It was time for more unusual entertainment. We all knew she was building up to something, but what? And this strange word, ‘inveigle’ what was it?  She toyed with the whip and was about to speak, when she was interrupted.

One girl shouted, ‘use that on my arse!’

She looked at the girl and smiled, as she cracked the whip. ‘You my dear, are coming back to my room.”

The girl stood up, curtsied and said ‘Yes Please.’

Abigail cracked the whip again and shouted, ‘Bring on the animals!’

A girl came in with what is called a zebra, I have heard of them, and seen drawings of them in ‘The Echo’ when they wrote about an explorer, but this was the first I had seen. She stood on it’s back as it trotted and did somersaults! To be honest she did a private show for some ‘well to do’ ladies afterwards, and all I can say is two things…

It was unnatural.

And I wish I had seen it! It had fucked her as she lay on a little bed underneath. I wonder if it has a striped cock?

It was such a proud animal. The girl looked at us, after her acrobatics, and announced the arrival of ‘Our Special Animals!’

We all looked bemused as the lights went down, and when they came bright again we were treated to some lovely sights!

Two very naughty girls were riding big greasy dildos on a wooden pig! That got some cheers and ribald comments!

We cheered them on to orgasms, the show was getting so rude! We loved it!

Two girls came on to the ‘stage’ flapping wings, they were ever so pretty in amazing costumes. Then we all had to stand as the girls layed two eggs! The eggs had numbers on, and whoever were sat at those numbered seats came to claim their game birds.

We could see what was happening then! We were all being grouped for some night time orgy which had been rumoured.

A girl dressed as a horse came on next, very slowly, whinnying and stomping her foot.

Who would Rose and I get? We squeezed each other in anticipation.

The Ring Mistress said this girl needed breaking in and training, she took off her top hat and pulled out a number. A great friend of ours, Eve squealed and ran to claim her prize. They gave her a crop and she rode her out of the ring, whacking her bottom crying ‘faster, faster!’

Then it was the slave girl Lottery!

Girls came out and did various acts, juggling, acrobatics, fire eating and all sorts of things. They displayed themselves in various exotic, erotic ways for the raffle, we had numbers twenty two and twenty three.

Here is Esmeralda, number twenty two, she is a contortionist.

You can’t see her face, but she is beautiful. A lovely cunt too, hasn’t she, and a ripe bottom for spanking. She came to sit with us, to find out who twenty three was. It was Irene, here she is.

She drifted down naked on a trapeze, and I walked down to collect her. I felt quite famous!

The show continued until we all had a girl. All were gorgeous! The last girl walked on her hands for ages, she must be so strong to do that.

The final act came on riding a bicycle with no seat, just a huge dildo! After she had fucked it, she rode over to the last girl in the audience, who was looking a bit forlorn, but her face lit up as the girl on the bike rang her bell and winked, it was magical. We can see why they made her wait now, it was Daisy! They rode off together, Daisy on her handlebars laughing loudly as we sang…

‘Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do,

I’m half crazy, all for the love of you….etc etc

The show was rounded off with the Ring Mistress on a chair. She said, ‘I have to do everything, so they have stuck a brush up my arse so I can sweep up after the show! She had a cute little Yankie hat on, and fired a gun to the roof to finish. She took out a sabre and waved it as she said ‘Goodnight all, let the orgy begin!”

Abigail walked down with her maid, and said she would speak to us all later,  and the three left together, what a night of debauchary followed…

The whole house was full of sex that night, some walked from room to room, others stayed in groups. We smoked stuff, and used opium with 22 and 23, music played and we just did whatever pleased us, needless to say there was a great deal of spanking!

Rose and I stripped naked and just walked around drinking it all in, it was intoxicating! Or maybe that was the gin! We said we would meet the ‘numbered girls’

We saw an older guest spanking one of us maids in the first room we visited. “Don’t you ever try my jewels on again!” She was saying as she punished her.

Oh, her bottom glowed so bright! We stayed to watch, until she fetched the birch, then left them to it. Down the hallway was the billiard room and we could hear someone playing.

It was young Lady Evelyn, she was doing trick shots whilst the two girls who looked after the zebra and monkeys watched. She had her prettiest open back bloomers on. It was very erotic!

 One of the girls unscrewed the end of the cue and fucked herself with it! After she had orgasmed, she got her friend to do the same herself.

The soft lubricated noise it made up her cunt was so sexy, we knelt before her and watched it sink in and out as we drank champagne out of tall, elegant cut glass flutes. Evelyn walked over and two more friends came in, but we decided to try the next room.

Hand in hand, naked, and more than a little stoned we walked along swaying, our soft shoulders bumping in to each other’s.


What a lovely surprise we had. Mrs Fletcher the Housekeeper was fucking one of the cooks! God she was going hard at it! She just turned to us and smiled. “Hello girls. Having fun?” Then carried on ramming her attachment up her friend on all fours, fast and hard.

I moved to the side of the cook and smacked her bottom in rhythm, and Rose did the same to Mrs Fletcher, who said she wished she had bought two of her long handled wooden spoons for us to use.

We left them gasping, and close to collapsing and stumbled on to the next room.

Where we found the girls we had won, fucking each other in a similar manner! Like us they had wandered around, stoned off their faces. They had been drinking laudnum, so we tried some. It’s wonderful, and later we tried absynth, a creamy green liquid, that was good too.

We watched the, fuck a while, then Rose blurted out, “That looks fucking good fun girls, can we join in?”

And we did!

It was utterly beautiful, disgusting, sensual, terrible, erotic, debauched, filthy, lustful, sordid, decadent, immoral, perverse, magnificent, sexual, sex… I mean… SEX!

How many orgasms we shared, none of us knew. We fucked, we licked, we sucked, we buggered, we fingered all through the night.

My tongue went in mouths, cunts and arses!

We squirted our juice over each other and rubbed it in. We put our knickers on and delighted in peeling them down time and time again.

The crescendo, hours later was like an earthquake, we lay in a square all licking cunt and arsehole slowly for ages and came together as if we were having fits.

I used others, and was used myself, time and time again. People watched and cheered, our sexual fame grew.

The orgy continued into the next day. We all awoke feeling ‘hung over, from drink and opium.

Slowly we recovered and ate, Mrs Fletcher seems to have a wonderful recovery rate, by mid day we were eating bacon and sausage sandwiches, drinking lashings of tea.

The orgy was not over, it was to continue that evening in the guise of a Domme / sub party. Lots of our favourite clients arrived through the afternoon and we all chatted excitedly in the mess from the previous day.

Abigail announced that it must stay as it is, she wanted us to ‘wallow in decadence!’ It was during that little lull that we all talked of Abigail’s upcoming surprise, what would it be? What is an Inveigle? All we could do was guess and watch the new guests arrive and enter our delightful mess! It must have smelled dreadful. Abigail delighted in the disgust some of the ‘posher’ ones showed!

Young, and mature, spankers and spankees. All lovers of spanking and humiliation walked up the drive all that afternoon. Lots of them!

The evening began with an announcement by Abigail. She looked eatable!

She stood there with a part of a steam vibrator in her hand. (Yes they did exist! And we’re very often used by visiting doctors to calm a woman who had stress etc) she told us that someone would be trying it out with her later. “…it will be the last survivor of the hunt!”

This meant that tonight’s party was going to be for the Dommes. All us maids, and nuns (girls who are not maids, but are Submissives) go off and hide. They are hunted down and punished for being caught, with no limit to the punishment.

This meant there were certain women you did not want to catch you, such as the evil young Lady Jacqueline of Westminster, who had a fancy for our friend Victoria, and had beaten her so severely once that it had to be stopped. When she arrived, she walked up to Victoria and said “I have unfinished business with you my little slut, and tonight when I find you, I will finish it.” After which she just turned away, as if Victoria was nothing but meat.

We all decided to protect Victoria, and make sure someone else found her. That woman, dressed in her usual Forrest Green scared us all, there was something unnatural about her.

Victoria felt safe, we were a resourceful bunch and could look after our own when we had too.

So when the night came, even Victoria was excited.

Abigail blew the horn, which signalled it was time to hide, we all ran off like mice when a light is lit. Rose was with me and off we went to our room, we wanted to be found, of course, and we’re not that bothered about winning really, we knew some of the older girls were desperate to be fucked by Abigail, our time would come.

Can you remember hiding as a child, or being chased? That feeling it gave you? In games like hide and seek. Well let me assure you this was a hundred times better, and a hundred times scarier!

We hid under our bed, naked! The horn sounded, and a huge cry went up! The hunt was on!

The  beautiful old house was full of screams, whacks and smacks all night long! Caught girls were subjected to all sorts of whims and fancies.

Some punishments were odd to say the least, and always accompanied by a spanking of some sort.

Every room, every single room and the marquee were used, the noise was so sexually exciting.

Victoria was found first, and soon crawling with a martinet in her teeth, so she was safe, and the lady who found her lovely. But this meant that Lady Jacqueline was on the loose, and angry.

Soon, naughty girls were in corners everywhere. But the night was young.

Maids spanked maids, ladies Spanked Ladies, ohhh the combinations and scenarios in that house that night were endless!

Not many open back bloomers stayed closed that night, let me tell you. And there were so many types of them. Where the girls got some of them I do not know, but…awwww! I want some!

Implements of every type were used, no bare bottom was spared a bruising. The hunt continued on and on…

Scenarios of all types too, but by far, a simple maids outfit was favourite.

Lots of girls when found were dragged into the main ballroom for public spankings, the walls soon filled with bright red bottoms doing corner time. Or rows of unspanked bottoms awaiting their fate.

The beautiful sound of spankings, squeals, laughter, orgasms, screams, whacks, cracks and joy, filled the whole house!

Girls were spanked by open windows so people could hear their squeals, along with the noise of smacks, outside. The beautiful summer evening filled with the scent of honeysuckle was a beautiful place to be. Those inside could hear those outside being spanked too! Some girls were spanked before large groups and some had to stand in line nervously awaiting their turn, and still many had to be found! Including us two!


We were eventually found and well spanked by a provocativly dressed Scottish Lady who used a tawse on us both….ooooh it hurt! There were still a third of us to be found as we were led away on leather leashes to the garden.

As we were led like slaves to an auction the vastness of the spanking orgy could be seen. Writhing bottoms, swishing canes, blushing cheeks were on stairs, on tables, on windows, you name it and somebody was spanked or punished with it or on it. These are some of the spankings we saw…


Our favourites were watching the maids spanking the Mistresses, and we bumped into Victoria with a carpet beater walking to Mistress Fanny’s bare bottom. She quipped, “I wish this was for Lady Jacqueline!”

Unfortunately for her she was just walking out of the next room. “Your old friends from the orphanage will pay for that…bitch!”

The hate in her eyes was as cold as a shark, it frightened us both and instantly silenced Victoria. What did she mean?

She looked stunningly sinister, but we had no time to linger as our slave Mistress tugged us away to the beautiful english rose gardens.

On entering the garden we saw Ivy being spanked by a lady with a  bunch of nettles and freshly cut birch.

It was late, drink flowed, so did cocaine and opium. The party changed again. It was time for the Dominatrix girls to get serious. We were put in a sort of yoke and made to trot like horses.

But that was mild compared to what some girls got. As we trotted around the house being ‘cropped’ along we saw so many inventive things.

Both inside the house and out in the garden! I think they call it  Costumes of every kind had been brought along.

The thing what excited all us submissive girls, craving control, humiliation and punishment very much indeed, was the appearance of our Dommes. They were …




And those who worked in groups were..



and Alluring!…

The party then faded away and people left, apart from two ladies who had been set on to record the events in erotic art, and a man! Yes a man, his name is George Barlow, and he took all these photos. The ladies were the friends of Beatrice’s, who illustrated her spanking novels.

This is my favourite.

Isn’t it wonderful?

Victoria was troubled, about her friends who worked at Lady Jacqueline’s Mill, and vowed to rescue them!

And then…

Then… Abigail made an announcement “We are moving! We will still have this place, but I have purchased an old theatre and the building next door. You are all going to be famous one day. I am to call it. THE INVEIGLE.

She sat and told us of her plans, the Inveigle Girls were born, and Abigail Hayes got a new name.

Rose invented it. She said ‘Oh Mistress Abigail, you do look after us all, you are like Mummy Bear in a story Mrs Markham used to read us.”

From that day on Mimmy Bear ruled us all.


keep coming back, this is only the start!


Rosie Bottom’s Blushing Buns Cafe – Part One

Imagine a nice cosy cafe, in a pleasant little town, run by a Domme who uses her submissive girls as waitresses, and often spanks them before the customers  for their mistakes.

…would you go?

Well you can actually, in real life I mean.

You see, the cafe is real. I have my own studio where all the photos you see in these stories and on my tumblr spanking blog are taken. I have my girls. And one glorious night a year I open the cafe you will see here to my special invited guests.

Here is a story set in it…

Rosie Bottom’s Blushing Buns Cafe…

Last night Rosie left two of her girls, Katie and Charlene to make the cafe ready for the morning. To cut a long story short, they didn’t!

And that is where our story begins.

Rosie came home early to find the tables not wiped. It may seem a small thing, but Rosie prides herself on her little cafe’s appearance, she loves to have things ‘just so’.

She also loves an excuse to punish her submissives, and to train them, so she smiled wickedly to herself  and decided to teach them both a lesson in the morning.

It probably won’t surprise you to know that her girls want their lives like this. They NEED their lives to be like this. They are Submissives after all.

All are happy in their own way.

Rosie calls her girls and tells them to come in bright and early for one of their ‘special days’.

This delights them, but also scares them. A delightful mix of emotions, where the girls crave yet fear punishment, because their Mistress can be very hard, almost brutal.

She waits for them, arms folded and on their arrival as they walk through the door, Rosie immediately puts their rope tethers on and leads them in

“You left these tables with crumbs on, smears of jam, and worst of all, spilt milk!”

Both girls respond  together. “Sorry Mistress.”

Without looking at them she speaks coldly. “There is a well known saying my pretty little naughty girls. Don’t cry over spilt milk. Those who tell you that are wrong, because later today you two will be doing just that!”

“Stand up.”

She led them to the tables, and told them to start polishing the surfaces, vigorously, whilst she watched.

Their bottoms swayed and wiggled as they wiped the tables hard and fast. Although great friends the two girls always tried to outshine each other, and presenting their bottoms to their Mistress in this way, allowed them to try and get more praise than the other.

Conversely the two girls loved it when the other was in trouble and they saw them get spanked. Making fun of each other, pointing and giggling, was a great delight, especially if in public. Even more so if one had been able to get the other in trouble.

“Right, it is time to open up. You two carry on.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Yes Mistress.”

The girls carried on cleaning, deliberately pointing their delicious bottoms towards the entering customers as the began to take their seats.

The two girls, Charlene and Kate looked at each other and smiled.

Charlene then waited for Kate to bend over and twisted her cleaning cloth. She flicked it menacingly to strike a cheek of her bottom.


Kate, the dark haired girl rubbed her bottom, and of course retaliated.


Soon there was a scuffle developing as both girls took it in turns to flick their cloth at the other. Rosie hated being shown up before customers, she turned to look at them. A look that spoke ‘punishment’.

“Stop it! Right now!” Shouted Rosie as she began to walk towards them. The customers shuffled, it was obvious that something was going to happen.

But the fighting got worse. “Oh! I have had  enough of this.” She screamed.

“Stop this squabbling right now you naughty girls. Both of you, get on the floor, submit to me…NOW.”

“How dare you both show me up before my customers? Last night you left the tables a mess, and this morning you start a fight before them before you have even taken their orders!”

She turns to the customers. “They will bring you a free drink each, after I have spanked them. Is that acceptable?”

Of course, it was, spanking was one of the main reasons they came, although the food was good, and the delightful little Rosie Bottom buns were a triumph every time. Rosie was an accomplished cook

So the customers accepted the proposal.

“Right young lady, you can get just here!” Rosie said to Kate as she dragged her up.

And bent her over the table.

“And you can get yourself opposite Kate, come on Charlene, don’t dilly dally!”

The customers giggled at the poor girls approaching demise.

The spanking began with six crisp smacks on Kate’s ample, curvy, beautiful bottom. Delightful little yelps at each one echoed around the room.

Followed by six on Charlene’s equally plump beautiful bottom.

The customers were now like a theatre audience, watching a performance.

They delighted in the sounds of smacks, the wriggling bottoms trying to escape, the continuing chastisement, and of course, the squeals of pain.

“Right! That’s it, get back on with serving the customers and stop behaving like silly little girls.” Commanded Rosie.

And they did, starting with the free cups of tea that had been promised. Their behaviour was perfect, as was the service the customers got for the rest of the day, right up until 5 o’clock, when the doors shut.

Tables were wiped, properly, pots were washed and put away.

“Okay you two, come here.”

The girls went to stand before her, looking guilty. They loved their Mistress, and did not want to show her up, or annoy her really. Both apologised.

“Sometimes,” continued Rosie, “…an apology is not enough. I am going to punish you both, then train you, and punish you again. Then I have a little surprise for you both. I know who started it this morning, so it is you first Kate, get here! You stand there Charlene.”

Charlene laughed, because of course, as you saw, it was her who started it with a flick of her cloth. Kate tried to protest, but was instantly silenced.

“Bend over this table Kate, I am going to punish you harshly!”



Story under construction, but feel free to read…

Imagine a place in the world where naughty girls are sent to learn the error of their ways by the use of traditional English discipline. The cane, spankings, corner time, and many more punishments.
Even better, imagine that there were hundreds and hundreds of these establishments spread across the globe, in a world wide society where the spanking of a naughty bottom was an essential part of a young lady’s upbringing. A place where naughty girls could just not help themselves getting into trouble, a place populated by the little minx.
One such establishment is the ‘Saint Helena Academy for Wayward Girls’ in Derbyshire, England.
And one such girl is Kate.
It’s funny how some girls can be good nearly all the time in this world, and only experience maybe one or two spankings in their whole life. These are good girls.
And others, like Kate are the opposite. Mischievous little imps who are always in trouble. It is a well known fact in this delightful make believe world that many girls get into trouble on purpose, because they crave discipline, and enjoy being kept in line. These are the bad girls.
Good girls love to see bad girls ‘get it’.
The bad girls hate the good girls, and find it humiliating to be punished before them.
The life of the ‘bad girl’ often leads them from one school to another, and eventually these women end up in an establishment like this, made to wear the easily recognisable ‘naughty girl outfit’. So that the population can help keep an eye on them, and report any wrong doings to the authorities.
Kate’s main crime throughout her life has been the need to masturbate in public.

The threat of being caught makes her orgasm extreme, and the joy she feels from not getting caught is immense. It is ‘one over’ the good girls.
Kate has only been in the academy for a week, and here she is wandering the corridors on Friday afternoon, she has a free period, to be used as study time.

She is looking for a suitable room to drop her knickers, and spread her legs.
And look, it seems she has found one…

The room was one very often used for detention, or special study and Kate found this delightfully naughty and daring. She slowly walked around the room, letting her fingers gently touch the desks.

Until she found one to sit at. She picked one next to the wall so she could not see anyone come in until the last second, which meant she would be caught for certain. This prospect excited her.

She looked around for the last time, and let fate decide. Her pussy was damp, so too were her white school knickers.

The room felt as if someone had wrapped it in cotton wool, she felt safe in her hushed surroundings and began to position herself.

“Good grief, I am so soppy down here.” She thought.

She held the palm of her left hand against her pussy and began to thrust slowly against it as she repeatedly said the words…

“Oh I am such a naughty girl, I need spanking!”

The word spanking, and the word naughty sent a ripple of delight through her groin. She needed to feel her panties come down and sense the vulnerability that the cool air would send over her unprotected bottom.


She began to chastise herself. “You naughty girl, take those panties down, bare your bottom for a spanking.”


She imagine a group of ‘good girls’ looking at her, pointing and teasing. She smiled at her wished for adversaries, and pulled her high waist pristine crisp white school knickers down some more.


Her bottom was now bare and she smacked it as she said loudly, “take that you naughty girl, and this!”

After each stinging smack she held her hand on her soft smooth cool skin! and it felt delightful. The need to masturbate grew in intensity, her knickers had to fall.

This was the point of no return, if she was caught here with no knickers on, with her record, it would be obvious what her intentions were.

Her delightful shapely bottom was bared. She looked at the hockey stick resting by her hand, it looked smooth and inviting.

She hung her freshly laundered, crisp white school knickers on the end of the hockey stick, sat back and opened her legs.

She began to finger her pussy, and rub her slippery clit.

With her eyes closed, she rubbed harder, and harder.

As her fingers slid in, she looked at the hockey stick again, lustily.

She unhooked her knickers, and placed them beside her at her school desk. She gently placed the blade of the hockey stick in position.

Her lips were well lubricated and it rubbed between them easily, and slid in as she began to let it fuck her cunt.

She could not get enough pressure so decided to straddle the blade and ride it.

She rode it hard, fast and loud as her orgasm approached, and then pushed down on the blade as she came, letting out a series of cries.

Slowly she removed herself from the sticky blade of the hockey stick, panting for breath. All was as quiet as when she entered. She pulled her knickers up and left.


The next day she told her friend Samantha about it as they stood talking in a corridor.

Samantha thought it sounded very daring so agreed to accompany her, and maybe do it together. So they went to the same room after their last lesson, knowing that plenty of after school clubs were running in the main block. So walking out of the gate later, free from suspicion should be easy.

It was quiet, just like the day before. Clocks ticked as did the radiators, and along with the sound of distant traffic, and a netball match, they were the only sounds.

They walked to the same desks.

Sat down and began to talk, quietly and sexily about masturbation.

Samantha was eager and was the first to start to play.

The excitement was almost too much, and her first orgasm hit straight away.

Kate smiled at her raunchiness, and thought that she had found a kindred spirit, someone to share her own orgasms with, and was soon rubbing a damp patch on her knickers.

“Oh God, I am so glad to have found someone like you! Take your knickers down, let me see you do it!” Cried Samantha.

Kate pulled her regulation white school knickers to her knees. Samantha stared at her pussy. “Finger your cunt Kate, go on, finger it fast!”

“Oh I love your bush too!” Exclaimed Samantha in delight.

They soon shared an orgasm, and began to talk some more, they felt safe and relaxed.

“Do you like looking at me masturbate Samantha?

“Oh yes, I have never watched another girl do it!”

“Would you like to see me shove something in?”

“Bloody hell, yes please…what?”

“Look in my briefcase.”

Samantha reached over and picked the bag up, put it closer to her and eagerly looked inside.

“What? In this plastic bag?”

“Yes, a banana!”

Samantha took it out excitedly.

“Here you are! Are you going to peel it?”

“God no! It might break, imagine going to the doctors with that! Please pass it here! I’m fucking desperate to get it in! I want to see you looking at me do it. Oh Samantha, I mean it, I have always wanted someone like you to!”

“Here you are, and yes!  I have always wanted a friend to watch! We were made to be friends Kate!”

“Push it in me Samantha, fuck me with it!”

Samantha held it gently and helped guide it in the wet slippery slit. The world around them faded from their senses, both were totally focussed on Kate’s pussy.

That was a mistake, because not too far away was Miss Black. She needed to count the desks in a room she used for exam re-sits. The room the two girls were in, was a room she often used. She could hear them, and crept to the door.

Completely, and blissfully unaware the girls carried on.

“Faster Samantha, fuck my cunt faster!”

“I will Kate, talk like that some more, like a dirty slut. Then I will get on my knees and let you fuck me with it!”

Miss Black stood looking through the window in the door, listening as she slowly opened it, to gently creep up on them.

For a few moments Miss Black was mesmerised as she watched two of her girls, masturbating with a banana, in an ‘Out of Bounds’ classroom.

They were almost shouting now, as the banana fucked harder and faster.

Pure filth fell from their lips as stealthily, and totally unnoticed Miss Black, like a cat stalking a bird, glided between the desks to pounce.

She coughed, as she stood just a few feet away from them, and both girls squealed in shock. Caught, the banana still fucking Kate’s cunt!

“You naughty NAUGHTY! Girls, you should be out of the school now! Technically you are trespassing! Here you are, as bold as brass, in an out of bounds room, masturbating! Samantha! Remove that fruit from Kate’s vagina, and close your mouth, you are not a cod fish!”

Wether it was her nerves, she wasn’t really sure, but Kate gave a giggle at the last remark. Miss Black did not like that at all!

“So you think this a laughing matter do you? Well, let me adjust your cavalier attitudes by putting half a dozen red lines across you bare bottoms! Come on, out you come!”

Suddenly the range of corporal punishment implements on the teacher’s desk became very apparent.

Both girls quaked as Miss Black picked up a very swishy cane, it was swaying gently, almost mocking them. “Let’s give  Mr Whippy an outing shall we?”

“Get yourselves bent over a desk apiece, right now young ladies! Although, listening to the disgusting filth that was pouring from your mouths just a few seconds ago, you are both anything but ladies!”

“Come on hurry up! No dilly dallying! Skirts up…now!”

Miss Black took a deep long breath and smiled wickedly. She loved her power, she loved girls bottoms and loved thrashing them even more! She took aim.

“Keep still Kate! Present that bottom properly! Heaven knows, you have had enough practice!”

Tap tap tap… went the rattan cane on that beautiful bare spankable schoolgirl bottom. Then…

THWAAAACK! Went the cane leaving a bright reddish purple line across both cheeks instantly.

“Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!” Screamed Kate as Miss Black moved to take aim on Samantha’s ample, beautifully curved bottom.

She raised the cane and adjusted her stance and swiiiish!

The cane found its target brutally, as a resounding crack filled the classroom. The reputation of the formidable Miss Black had been well earned.

The cane slashed down like a sabre in the arm of a cavalry officer at Waterloo! The room was filled with the sound of swishing rattan, the cracks of cane on plump young buttocks and the desperate screams of two naughty girls getting what they richly deserved.





They are put in corner time in front of the classroom.


They are told not to turn around and keep facing the front, they hear a wet noise and turn to find Miss Carr masturbating!


They both record Miss Carr in her embarrassing position on their phones and threaten to show everyone and tell what she has done.

There is much pleading from Mrs Carr and a key phrase…

“please don’t I will do anything!”

the sex slave of the two girls is born!

they spank her

they make her masturbate with the banana

and more



The April Fool

Hello, welcome back, sit down, put the kettle on….enjoy.

In a small market town in the Cotswolds is a firm of accountants, ‘Jones and Sons’. They have existed for 150 years and pride themselves on top quality customer service. Indeed, the Company motto, which is always embossed on the top of every letter, using fine quality cartridge paper reads as follows.

“The Old Ways are Our Ways, you The Customer…Always Come First.”

They meant every word when they came up with the logo, and they still do. Attention to detail was and is paramount. Presentation, from the smallest business letter, to the appearance of the Board Room for a meeting has to be perfect.

Modern ways are used of course, they have to be, to compete in this electronic age, but staff numbers are large, and time can be taken for everything to be ‘just so.’

So the business gives the image of a 1950’s customer orientated, caring and honest environment.

The lady in charge of all this finery in business is Mrs Rowena Jones, the wife of the Managing Director, Rupert Jones. She takes pride in everything she does, especially her appearance.

A beautiful lady, respected and adored by all. She is the ‘face’ of Senior Management.

Although the middle echelons of the management can afford to be friendly with their staff, the rest of Senior Management are expected to be aloof.

So Rowena is the bridge between the two. Everything is reported back to Mr. Jones and his ‘level’ in the company by her, and she has an uncanny knack of drip feeding information back the other way to exactly where it should go.

She is the beating heart of  ‘Jones and Sons’.

The standing of the company is high in the local community. To work there is a ‘feather in your cap’, and an excellent line to have written on your C.V.

And so it was that Samantha, a young woman with excellent qualifications, and until recently Head Girl of the Cotswold High School for Girls was feeling justly proud of herself. She had started six months ago, and had proved to be very useful, especially in the I.T. area.

Yesterday morning however she had done something a little cheeky, and quite daring. This is something she is good at, and had got away with many times at school and at home. And guiltily she had sometimes felt excited and aroused when another schoolgirl or maybe a cousin had been punished for it. Being privy to many corporal punishment sessions as Head Girl had left a lasting impression on her.

She had sneaked into the boardroom and taken a selfie, which today she duly sent to her Mum, and close friends, in a text message.

It read…’These are the famous curtains in Jones and Sons Boardroom! Purchased from India at the height of the Britich Empire, costing hundreds of pounds even then. Hey everybody! I have arrived!…lol’

Here is the photo which she sent in the text message.

This was the day that things began to go wrong for naughty Samantha and it was this simple text which started it all, the first domino in a chain of  unfortunate events.

The first reply  to the text was from Mummy. ‘Be careful dear, you know how your daring adventurous ways got you into trouble at home and at school a couple of times as a young girl!’

Samantha smiled ruefully at her phone and patted her rather shapely bottom as she recalled the consequences. ‘Yes Mummy! Your naughty teenager has grown up now and has learned her lesson from all her bare bottom spankings!’ She text back these words to Mummy, but the silly girl was not as clever as she thought. She always did these things far to quickly.

The message was sent to Mummy and the same group of her ‘favourites’, saved on her phone, to whom she had sent the selfie.

Most of these were old school chums, and mostly Prefects, who had all shared their spanking experiences with each other anyway.

But one was a new friend, Katie, who although liked Samantha a great deal, had got fed up of her constant ‘showing off ‘ about her IT skills to everyone.

She too worked at Jones and Sons.

Both texts duly arrived on her phone, and we’re very enlightening.

Katie smiled wickedly, she was very much a spanking lover, especially from the viewpoint of the Spanker. The thought of  seeing Samantha’s bottom bright pink and sore appealed to her, but even more so was the thought of seeing her humiliated. It was the humiliation through spanking that ‘tickled her fancy’, and as she read the text, her ‘fancy’ went decidedly  damp!

She knew from experience that the tears shed by a spanked girl were not just from the pain, but more so from the humiliation they had felt, and still felt, as they did corner time, especially before her peers.

She began to plot.

Slowly over the next few days a plan was created. She had easy access to the stationery cupboard, and acquired some paper, which she embossed on the old black and gold enamelled hand operated, stout, metal, embossing machine. It always delivered a satisfying thump as it did its job.

Then she began to practice Mr Jones signature! Both at home in her apartment, and when work threw up one of those quiet moments.

Once she was happy with it, she waited and watched Samantha, whose pride was growing daily. It culminated in her telling a group, of which Katie was a member, just how she had saved the company lots of money with her I.T. Skills and how it was only a matter of time before she was in charge of that area and introducing training for them all in her cleverly developed programmes. It seems that some letters had been sent to some very important clients asking them to take part in a trial of Samantha’s new idea, to be run and analysed by Rowena. This was her big chance to impress, she felt sure the results of the trial would bring promotion. That would grant her enough money for her first car, and she wanted a really good one.

Kate soon picked up on two universally known things about Samantha.

One, was that all the staff thought she was very good at her job and admired her skills.

The other, confirmed by many of Kate’s instigated conversations, was that although everyone thought she was a pleasant enough girl, they all wanted to see her bought down a peg or two. As Ian, the Accounts Manager put it,…’she needs to learn how to be more modest, a little humility would not go amiss’. Kate shared his office.

Rowena began to see very positive results come back from the clients in the trial, but she had her finger on the pulse of the workforce as always and knew that too much praise heaped on Samantha would not be a good thing right now.

She knew her staff very well, and knew something for certain. They would bring Samantha down a peg or two and teach her respect and empathy, especially for some of the long serving staff, who did not need a ‘schoolgirl’ to keep telling them how marvellous she was.

Although she had a lovely office on the floor with the rest of management at her level, she also had one on the second floor, quite close to the accounts department. She felt that in that office, she was at the ‘hub of the wheel’.

Kate was the one who came up with a superb plan.

She wrote a letter to Samantha, on Company paper, and signed it to make it seem that Mr Jones had written it. It read as follows…

Miss S.Pickering.

I am writing to inform you that disciplinary action is being taken against you for a great error on your part.

I  have had three valued customers telling me that they have received vital information about other customers in both e-mail, and , much worse, letters printed on our Company paper.

This highly confidential information has been put on social media to show just how inept we are in this modern world.

You have disgraced both yourself and our Company. If it was left to me you would be dismissed without references but my wife has pleaded your case. It appears that she goes to the same Church as your Mummy. Your Mummy has told us quite clearly how she dealt with you and that a dose of the same here, might teach you a valuable lesson.

Mrs Jones offers you this choice.


1) Bring a letter of resignation to her, in her ground floor office in the morning.


2) Put your old school uniform on, including the navy blue school knickers your Mummy has told us about, (which it seems you despise) and report to her dressed as such, first thing, also  to her floor office, for a liberal dose of corporal punishment.

Please indicate your choice below, and hand this letter to Mrs Jones on reporting to her SECOND FLOOR office.

A flamboyant signature followed, written above a typed Mr. jones.

Kate went in early the next day and placed the envelope in Samantha’s ‘in tray’.

She watched interestedly, with a wicked smile on her face as Samantha walked in, bright and breezy, to sit down to open her mail, she soon got to what looked like an important letter.

Katie had got quite a lot of invoices for the I.T. Department so waited there for Samantha to open  her mail as the kettle boiled. She studied  her as the colour drained from her face.

“Can you come up to see me and Ian soon, we have a couple of invoice queries to sort. See you in a bit, I am going to get our kettle on too!”

Samantha sat stupefied, she read the letter again, and again. How could this have happened? She had done it all herself, “Oh no! I must have somehow got them in the wrong envelopes! And the e-mails too, oh dearie me, how did I send the wrong ones to the wrong people. Awwww! I have messed up badly!”

Samantha was in shock, and needed to go to the toilet, the horrid letter had loosened her bowels.

Kate followed her with her eyes as she rushed to the toilet.

Then she followed her with her eyes again later, as she came to see Ian, obviously in distress and not really concentrating on the job at hand, she observed her closely, and spoke to her. “Morning Samantha, isn’t it a lovely day? I wonder what miracles of modern technology you will find to make our Company shine today? We do think you are wonderful!”

Ian looked over at Kate puzzled.

Samantha tried to smile and said nothing, as she buried her head into the invoices Ian had presented her with. Ian looked to kate again and Kate winked at him.

She put a finger to her lips and silently mouthed the words ‘tell you later’.

The day went horribly slow for Samantha.

The day went delightfully slow for Kate as she studied Samantha whenever she could.

At five o’clock she watched her go home. Kate was pretty sure she would go for option two, but even if she didn’t Mrs Jones would read the letter and being astute as she was, would know that Samantha was being taught a lesson.

Kate walked over to Ian before she left. “This is between me and you. The little smarty pants is going to be put in her place, get here early tomorrow….Goodnight.”

Ian said he would, he was very curious. He ran after her and they walked to the car park together, talking quietly but excitedly. The plan was told to Ian in great detail, much to his amazement. “Fantastic Kate! If this works it will be utterly amazing and just what the haughty little madam needs! Well done you!”.

Samantha had not passed her driving test yet, so after a bus journey she reached her home in a dejected mood. Her apartment was bright, modern and cheerful but did nothing to lift her spirits. She remembered the humiliation of being spanked, the feel of the eyes on her private places. The ever increasing sting. The sounds. It was bad enough before Mummy and sometimes her friends, but to bare her bottom before Mrs.Jones!

How would she do it?  She wondered. Over her knee?

The strange feeling of  mixed emotions settled on her. Fear, dread and embarrassment. Coupled with a slight hint of sexual excitement.

Her school uniform, including her ghastly navy blue knickers were in her spare room. She went up and got them out, arranging each item neatly on the unmade bed. She could not fit into her school blouse, but was sure she would find something, maybe the grey shirt she had worn for work today would work.

“Oh damn, everything was going so well! I can’t believe I have been so stupid. I couldn’t even find the copies of the e-mails I sent out, God knows what I did with them, I’m sure I saved them.” She sat down with a sulk, and stared at her uniform.

A certain triumphant dark haired young lady, sat drinking red wine with her spaghetti bolognaise in her apartment on the other side of town knew exactly what had happened to the e-mails.

The anticipation of tomorrow excited her, she went to bed early, naked, after a long soak in the bath.

She imagined being Samantha, and as one hand smacked her bottom as she lay on her tummy, the other rubbed her clit, until she came, gently bobbing up and down, then she drifted to sleep. She was ready for an early night.

Slowly Samantha undressed, and stood naked, looking at the uniform. She put it on and looked at herself in the mirror, and a thought struck her. The bus journey to and from work! In school uniform!

Soon everything was put back on the bed, she showered and spent a fitful night tossing and turning. She went through imaginary spankings  at the hand of Mrs.Jones time after time until sleep finally came.

The alarm went off. For a few delightful moments everything seemed fine. Then she remembered.

After reading the letter yet again, she wrote on the bottom of it that she would accept a spanking, and popped it back in its envelope. The office of choice was the second floor one.

Breakfast was just a slice of toast and a cup of strong coffe, she dressed in her school uniform, took a deep breath, and left the house. Setting off twenty minutes early so as to miss the usual people in the usual places, and catch an earlier bus seemed to work. It was not that long since school and some of the looks she got lifted her spirits slightly.

Samantha began to think of different routes she could possibly take to Mrs.Jones office as she approached the main door. She walked into her place of employment bravely.

The letter said to report straight to her work office on the second floor if she chose the spanking option, in school uniform, so resigned to her fate she made her way. Maybe this had happened before and people would not be too surprised. Her hopes in that direction soon shattered, firstly when the receptionist burst into laughter, and then when she made her way up the short set of stairs  from the reception foyer to lifts.

Here she found the electrician working on the ceiling lights. At the moment she passed he was on his knees stripping wire, he just gazed silently, mouth open as she climbed by him.

She continued towards the lift, hoping that not too many would be waiting. She heard the electrician speak to the receptionist and laugh, but kept her eyes forward.

On reaching the lift, she pressed the button and waited. “Oh why did I have to wear my uniform so short!” She said to herself.

To her horror she could hear voices in the right hand lift as it approached.

So quickly she moved to the other lift, trying to act normal and look insignificant.

She felt so silly as four people came out, staring at her and obviously stifling their laughter. In a slight panic she never thought to walk in! The lift doors closed.

So she waited for the next lift, which arrived empty.

She walked into that one.

She arrived on the floor where both her office, the accounts and Mrs.Jones work-place office were located. Needing just a couple of minutes to compose herself she went to her own office first, sorted a couple of things, turned and came back out on to the corridor.

Kate walked up behind her as she was coming out. “Hello, good grief, what on earth do you have that on for?”

Samantha blushed, kept quiet and politely pushed straight by Kate.

Unfortunately, straight into Ian.

Similar comments were exchanged but she decided the best way forward was just get this over with. She proceeded to Mrs.Jones office.

Rowena was sat in her office drinking a cup of tea, which like her Mother used to say, ‘set her up for the day’. Of course she had no idea of the letter or what was heading her way. Samantha was far from her mind, as she switched on her computer.

Samantha was in a focussed state, she just wanted to get it over with and then somehow rebuild her reputation. She knocked on the door and upon invitation walked in.

Ian and Kate were always one corridor corner behind her, on the short journey to Rowena’s work office.

They had seen her walk confidently as if a nineteen year old at work in a gymslip was a common occurrence.

They saw her peers pass by and giggle, soon filling them in on what was happening. News spread.

Rowena stood staring at this beautiful young woman in her gym slip, white socks and straw hat, stood thrusting a letter at her.

She took the letter.

Even if she had wanted to say something, Samantha did not give her a chance. With the impetuousness of youth she went straight in to what she wanted to say.

“Mrs.Jones, I know I have made a huge mistake. Thank you for not sacking me! I am so grateful for still being here. I want you to spank me on my bare bottom just as my Mummy used to, but worse! Show me no mercy, spank me for as long and hard as you like, please, I will try better honestly, please spank me!”

To Mrs.Jones amazement, Samantha took her knickers down, slowly, as she sat and read the letter.

Nervously Samantha’s thumbs tucked into the elastic and tugged…

Bit by bit, until in a flash they slipped over her cheeks…

All the way down her attractive shapely thighs to her knees…

Down to her ankles…

By the time the knickers reached her shoes,  Rowena had read the letter, and understood exactly what was happening. She also understood that fate had delivered her a young, firm, willing bare bottom to spank as hard as she liked. She was not going to let the opportunity pass by.

Samanth took the regulation knickers off, and began to speak again, following on from where she left off. Breathing quite fast she swallowed hard, and continued…” As hard as you like. My Mummy usually used her hand or slipper, but sometimes the hairbrush,  or even a cane. I need teaching a long hard lesson on my bare upturned bottom, in any way you please.

Samantha passed the knickers to her superior.

And then to Rowena’s complete amazement, she fell to her knees to beg.


But not for mercy, …for her punishment, to atone, so she could start afresh.

“Please Mrs.Jones, do it, spank me, teach me a lesson.”

“You have obviously been a naughty girl.” Said Mrs.Jones as she wagged her finger.

Samantha nodded, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Rowena realised at this point that here was a girl, who, in every sense of the word NEEDED a spanking.

“Get up to your feet you naughty girl.”

Holding the knickers between her fingers before Samantha’s eyes,  she continued. “These are a traditional pair of school knickers, and not intended to be worn by girls of your age. Who work for a living. You should be ashamed of yourself, being so naughty that you have to dress up like this and have to pass me your regulation school knickers,  to leave your bottom bare for a good spanking! How old are you? Fourteen?”

So, knowing how much Samantha hated those knickers, Mrs.Jones taunted her with them, making her look at them as she swung them too and fro before her eyes. “These are still warm from your bottom being in them, but trust me, your bottom is going to be much, much, MUCH hotter soon!”

“Yes Mrs.Jones, I am a naughty girl, I deserve a hot bottom.”

Samantha continued. “Please Mrs. jones, please give me a spanking, punish me, be my work Mummy and make my bottom glow, I won’t take no for an answer , I will not leave until I have been made to kick, squeal, and cry! Oh Mrs.Jones.”

“For God’s sake, shut up girl! I will indeed spank you, just stand quietly, hands by your side.”

Mrs Jones read the letter again and put the navy blue knickers on the desk. She leaned over and picked up a green plastic ruler. She realised what had happened, and just could not resist going along with everything. “Very well, seeing as you are so desperate for a spanking, come over my knee right now young lady! Tuck your gym slip into your tie around your waist.”

Under the gaze of Ian and Kate, and by now quite a few more, looking through the door window, she pulled her chair from the back of the desk, and sat down. “Over you come, make your bottom pert for me.”

Rowena pulled out her red office chair.

Outside the office Ian and Kate could not believe the speech that Samantha had given. The crowd grew, news was spreading fast. This was working better than their wildest dreams. Kate was agog, fascinated by what was happening, and Samantha’s pert bottom.

Samantha moved into position, by the side of Mrs.Jones lap, and began to bend over.

The crowd watched silently, Kate let the door swing open silently, to afford a better view. Here was the girl with attitude, the girl who was haughty, the one who had annoyed so many, dressed in school uniform, going over Mrs.Jones knee, for a bare bottom spanking, her beautiful blonde hair swirling.

“Get yourself settled and present your bottom young lady!”

The spanking began!

Mrs.Jones looked at the sight before her. A beautifully presented ripe young firm rump, begging to be spanked. She gripped the girl tightly around the waist and began. No mercy was asked for so none was given. The pale green, one and a half inch wide, eighteen inch long drawing ruler struck with full force. She struggled to climb away as she remembered just how painful a spanking with an implement was, but Rowena pulled her back easily and hit even harder.

The girl let out a shriek like a howling wolf and before she could compose herself the next smacks, which echoed like pistol shots, left hot searing Crimson lines that soon joined together to redden her whole bare bottom.

Again the girl let out more high pitched screeches akin to some wild animal.

Mrs.Jones (urged on by the loud screams coming from Samantha,  and the sight of the two bright crimson  cheeks on a perfectly formed bucking and wiggling bottom), began to tighten her grip and quicken the pace of the crisp resounding smacks. Samantha’s face screwed up tight. But she could do nothing to stop the shrill ear piercing squeals coming from between her ruby red lips.




The squeals could probably be heard outside.

The crowd of co-workers delighted in the noise building to a crescendo, interspersed with louder and louder, faster and faster smack, spank, crack, whack of the unforgiving ruler.

Her legs kicked and her waist bucked like a bronco,  but the strength of Mrs.Jones was surprising. She told her to get up and bend over the desk, which she did quickly, the pace of the spanking hardly slowing, and her legs still kicking at the knees.

” You are going to remember this for a very long time young lady! And so too will the work force!”

Samantha looked to the now wide open door, the people had spilled inside, she was getting a very public spanking!

Rowena spotted  that Samantha was expecting the blows to her cheeks in rhythm, so varied the blows, three on the left, one on the right, five on the left, six across both!

The poor girl had no idea where the next one was to land, she screamed and begged for it to stop, promising to be a good girl. Which delighted the onlookers and they clapped, and cheered the spanking along.

Her bottom got the thrashing of its life.

Samantha squealed and writhed, begging for the punishment to stop.

So stop it did.

The bottom before the audience was as red as a beetroot.

“Well done Mrs.Jones she needed that!” And similar comments were shouted out as they all stood clapping once again. Samantha’sface was as red as her bottom in humiliation.

“Now stand up you silly girl.”

She jumped up, both hands clasped on her buttocks, her legs doing some kind of dance like a fancy Irish Jig, she almost ran around as if trying  to escape a blow torch on her bottom.

“Now apologise to the staff for being a cocky, haughty, little brat, and promise to grow up and behave like an adult at work, and not a silly naughty schoolgirl!

Gripping her bottom and rubbing furiously she did so…

Blushing, with tears on her cheeks she spoke quietly. “I am ever so sorry for being a naughty girl. I deserved my spanking before you all…sniff. I will behave better, be more polite, and respectful to my elders in particular. If ever I am naughty again I will accept another spanking before you all. But most of all, I am sorry for my huge mistake.”

The staff burst into laughter and Mrs.Jones explained.

“Look at this signature! Can you not see it is not real? Look at the date on the calendar, it is April the first! You are good at your job Samantha, but do you really need to show off and belittle your elders? Grow up! You are at work now, not a silly school girl. But believe me! I am going to buy a cane, and if you ever, that is EVER act like one again I will cane you in the corridor, or the dining room for everyone to see! Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to teach you a valuable lesson. Now get back to work, and behave like an adult!”

Samantha began to pull her gym slip down. “Stop! You can spend the rest of the day doing your duties with that tied up, and your naughty red, swollen, bottom on show!”

“Awwww.” Samantha walked through her peers with her bottom on show, to begin work. It was going to be a long embarrassing day Samantha ran out red faced and ashamed to meet a large crowd of her peers on the corridor, most of them laughing and pointing. Her gym slip was still up as she ran past them holding her bottom.

She began to do her duties in a quiet area…

Then, after her eyes dried up, she decided to brave working around the staff. Every single one was nice, she had paid her penalty, promised to behave better, and had taken her punishment well really, despite all the kicking and squealing.

Especially Ian, who was always a kinder older gentleman, he asked if she was alright. She replied ‘yes’ and blushed profusely. Whilst he enjoyed the view.



Then after a couple of other places she tried working near Katie, having no idea that it was her who hat devised the plot. She too was kind and respectful. In a strange way, she enjoyed all the looks and attention.


Her navy blue knickers were still on Mrs.Jones desk, Samantha thought about where they were, but decided to keep a low profile.

So Samantha did her job stood up all day, with no knickers on. Her red sore bottom on show every time she bent over. Much to everyone’s amusement,

The plan seemed to have worked. A good spanking and a liberal dose of humiliation once again had been proven to work.

She went home on the bus stood up.

She masturbated four times that night, in her school uniform, but no knickers. The knickers ended up somewhere else…

The next day nobody said a word, and never did, until April Fools Day, every year. When she came to work in her school uniform, to report to Mrs.Jones for any attitude adjustment needed.!

As for the knickers. She never asked for them, but let me tell you a secret…

The night of the spanking Mrs.Jones wore them, as she masturbated to the best orgasm of her life! You see, she found them on her desk and put them in her handbag.

She took them home, and tried them on.


They felt wonderful and made her feel magnificent, naughty, and young.

“Oh Samantha, I WISH YOU WERE HERE NOW!” I want to spank you, again!”

Then she masturbated hard…

The End.









The Haunting of Cumley Bottom Hall


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 owns the vintage cars and runs her own business from her large country home had waved them off in their Rover feeling quite envious of their tour in this beautiful part of  England to come.

The National Park still holds many secrets in its 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 at the time 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 weird, but I think we have landed on our feet.” Said Amber.

Charlotte nodded in agreement, not being quite so sure.

It began rain hard, and 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 both 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 Charlotte’s question to the painting…


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 almost at the same time, she felt suddenly sleep again. Slumber found her easily, and without realising it ever happened, she slumped down on to the bed again and fell soundly asleep.

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 again, 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 woke 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 in the picture, 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.”


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!”

Kate looked around but could see nobody, the place was totally deserted. The wind, the bees, the rustle of leaves and the general gentle noise of a warm day were her only company. She felt like a young girl playing hide and seek. “Where are you? I can hear you but cannot see you!”

She began to walk to the front door of the ruin.

“We are around the back, come and find us.”

She joined in the play, and replied to an upstairs window where the sound of their voices had echoed from. “Okay, coming! Ready or not!”

The bells rang again, it was almost as if she was walking up to a church door at a wedding of a friend, but as soon as she reached the door her feelings changed. The warmth of the sun in the shadow vanished immediately and she felt cold. She peered through, the inviting sun beckoned her to the rear of the building.

She hurried through to the other side and the warmth hit her again, so too did the summer noise, and a voice, was it Amber or Charlotte?

“Over here!”

She looked and was taken aback, before her in the near distance was a portcullis. “Are you in there?”

She began to walk towards it, and as she did so things changed, her feelings began to turn to sexual arousal, as if going to a secret meeting place to meet a lover.

The voice changed too, it was the voice that had spoke to Charlotte and Amber that came to her now, and she welcomed it.

She walked to the portcullis willingly. “Come to me my darling” whispered the voice.

When she reached the portcullis, it was like taking the first sip of a long awaited drink of your favourite tipple, to her it was like a mouthful of the best Merlot. She touched the steel bars, which were cool in the shade…”Mmmmm.”

She notices the tethers hanging there, and instinctively her hand moved up to take one. “That’s right my petal.” Said the voice. “…take one, slide your wrist into the loop


She does the same with the other hand and the feeling of restraint fills her with the need. The need of a submissive.

From somewhere in the distance, through the trees she hears the bells again, so beautiful, so very English.

The voice spoke again, and in the background she can hear the hushed giggle of other girls, they must be watching. Intermingled with the gentle laughter are other noises, moans and sighs of delight, the sounds of sexual pleasure. Whoever is watching me is enjoying it she thinks. “When you visit Cumley Bottom Hall my dear, it is best to leave your inhibitions and clothes at the door. Your knickers, you don’t need your knickers do you? Remove them.”

Slowly she pulled her dress up.

She hooked a thumb of each hand into the elastic and began to tug.

In the cool shady air, the feeling of the soft material gently running down her legs excited her already moist pussy, she let out a gentle, barely audible moan.

With her knickers at her ankles she soaks up the heady atmosphere. The voice speaks again. “You have a need, satisfy it!”


Other voices, all female, make excited noises, almost as if pushing forward to get a better look.

“Yes I have a great need Mistress.” At which she slid to the floor, the shock of the cold on her bare bottom made her take a sharp intake of breath.

“You will do that much more often for me.” Said the voice. “But not at the reaction to cold stone.”

The female voices giggled knowingly.

Her hands slid up her thigh to be met by a great wetness.

Her need was great, finesse was little, she fingered herself hard and fast and came loudly in seconds.

The voice said well done my naughty girl.

The girlie voices said… “And we all know what naughty girls get don’t we?”

Kate replied. “Spankings, lots of spankings on their bare bottoms!”

“Yes!!!” They echoed.

The need for a good spanking on her bare bottom could not be satisfied by herself, she screamed loud. “Someone, anyone, please, please! Spank me!!”

The voice laughed, and the air went quiet. “I will.”

As in the room of the girls a darkness came to the edge of her vision, like black ink running through the foliage.

It moved towards her… slowly, and darkly, and encased in the darkness were the Squire Brides, which now included Charlotte and Amber.

The mist moved towards her, and secured her wrist to the portcullis.

Suddenly she felt warmth engulf her, no longer was she outside the ruin, she was inside, she was bent over, naked, her bottom upturned for this strange creature in Victorian attire. “That’s it my beauty, present your bottom!”


The cane swung down in an arc and landed neatly across the middle of her fine rump.


She saw him for the first time, a strange cruel looking man in a vest and bloomers, and where was she, what had happened to the ruin. She had no more time to think as whack after whack landed on her bottom.

Then the man picked up a hairbrush from a rack of implements and proceeded to spank her with that!

She squealed and could hear other girls laughing and making mock of her torment.

There was no escape from him, he changed his weapon of punishment again, into a thick red tawse, he whacked her poor bottom mercilessly. She was over his knee before she knew it, getting a real old fashioned no mercy, bare bottom, over the knee spanking.

The sensation changed, and suddenly she did not want him to stop, she felt a well known tingling in her groin, she was starting to cum.

“Oh spank me, harder, faster, don’t stop!”

The girls laughed loudly and one shouted… “That’s it, he has her, we have another bride!”

She looked to her right and could see them, a huge crowd of laughing women, and in them she recognised two..

Amber and Charlotte, who urged her. “Come and join us!”

Confusion was suddenly all around Kate, she seemed to flash from the past to the present and suddenly found herself back in a deserted part of the ruin, almost like a hostage, sat on an old chair, then this figure from the brides drifted by and spoke.

“It is your decision, but it must be made now.”

All was dark, and sinister, but still the sexual lure was huge, almost magnetic.


Then she was running, looking for sanctuary.

She came to rest by a window. The modern world and all its worries and stress seemed so harsh, and the brides seemed so voluptuous and sexual.

She gave in…

The brides came for her…

They took her.

So beware if you go to the Dark Peak, you might never come back!

The End







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 them 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 tohe heavy leather soled slippers in our hands. “You are both going to get 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.


Did their behaviour  improve?

You will have to see, what do you think?





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.

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 to 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!

And today, she used it.

I saw her turn and her need was attached to her choker. “Tell me, 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 ‘need’ 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…










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 60000 words, and at least 20 chapters. It is still under construction, but feel free to read it as it is… It will join up with ‘ the Misadventures of Molly the Victorian Maid…making it huge!

So read this first, then go here, this will be chapter two


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!

* * *


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. Abigail 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 Abigail Hayes, it is a story about her, 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 commonly being called ‘The Warren’ at the Inveigle.

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 Abigail Hayes, the proprietor. Of all the history I have related to  you there is one physical link. It is Abigail’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…


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, a piercing stare and a gentle hand shake. Her name is Abigail 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 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. Abigail 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 Abigail’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 Abigail 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 Abigail, and she knew how to give a spanking.  Many an ‘Inveigle Girl’ has felt the wrath of Abigail on the stage, much to the audiences delight!


Everything was about spanking, Abigail 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 Abigail, 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…”


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  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 her 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. Her middle finger tucked in the wet slit. 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 mentioned before 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!”


“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 smooth 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.

The two sets of girls come prancing out, as naked as the day they were born apart from  little plugs in their bottoms, with pony tails hanging down behind them, prancing along like young ponies, their arms folded up to their breasts, and hands before them.  One team is led by Felicity, dancing from right to left, the other led by Amber dancing from left to right. One passes Eleanour the other passes Scarlet, where both lines go side by side to the back and the circles begin again. Sapphire and Georgina leave the stage, quietly.

Felicity is dressed provocatively.  On her head is a purple bowler hat, with a long thin pheasant feather.  She wears a purple sequined bodice dress, very tight at the waist. The front is cut away and her legs are seen. She has black and red striped stockings, with purple knickers and boots. She is full of attitude, the brat the audience love to see ‘get it’.  Stood in a haughty pose, with one hand on her knee, the other holding her cheroot, she tosses her head back, her hair in ringlets falling down her shoulders and takes a deep draw, then puffs out a magnificent smoke ring.

Amber looks every inch a wanton slut. Her black hair is full of waves and hangs thick and tousled. A red rose sits to the left of her head.   A black band with a cameo-brooch is worn around her neck. Her breasts are pushed up in a bright red dress. A split runs down from her waist. It has a bustle at the back, and she knows how to wiggle it. She smokes a long pipe, and not being outdone by her rival she blows an equally wonderful smoke ring in her direction. Her toned shiny dark skin reflects beautifully in the lime light.

The march being played is one of those tunes which has a little pause now and then, and every girl stands still for just two or three seconds, a very difficult thing for the girls, but the audience love it .

When the music gets to the right place the girls stop, and whoever is stood before Felicity and Amber have to bend over, grasp their hands behind bent knees and take a sound spanking in time to the claps! Imagine the scene as Felicity and Amber with huge smiles hold a tail up each, look to each other, then to the bent over bottom and smack, smack, smack, spank spank!

The music makes them start prancing again until the next pause. If the same girl stops again the audience love it and laugh and cheer as her bottom gets redder and redder. Sometimes a girl who has perhaps had three spanking like this, tries to run quickly out of beat to try to avoid the approaching pause in the music, this is a serious offence and a severe spanking is given over a stool.

The ponies trot from the stage, chased by Felicity and Amber clapping their hands, they then walk back to each side of the stage, diametrically opposite each other.

The music stops, another well known tune begins and the can-can starts. Almost unnoticed the ‘bottom’ girls in black and white have removed their knickers and after forming a line they do a stunning performance.

At the end, they bend over, facing away from the audience, the music goes quieter, and the girls beat time with alternate bending knees.

It’s time for the spanking prize draw.

Amber holds out Felicity’s bowler hat, and draws out seat numbers.  Georgina has returned to the stage, Amber passes the tickets one by one to her, and Marie shouts out the numbers which correspond to seat numbers in the auditorium. The ‘lucky seat’ winners run to the stage to take a wooden paddle from Felicity, each one expertly engraved with a picture of The Inveigle. They all stand to the right of their allotted girl and the music stops.

Georgina takes another big breath.  She starts to clap as the music picks up again. “Bottom’s up girls!”

To the can-can tune the girls all get a brisk spanking with the wooden paddles.

The music fades, many candles are lit, and each girl is given a tub of cream to rub into the cheeks accompanied by a violin version of ‘Toselli’s Serenade’. This is performed by Scarlet, who is also an accomplished violinist; she is naked and stood close to the front row, facing the audience. The choreography is so good that the most of the audience never even saw her walk to her spot.

The rustle of petticoats is audible; this is another tradition of ‘The Inveigle’. Abigail knows that the audience would be almost dripping by now, so she arranges a little masturbation break. This part of the show has many variations, but it is an excuse for hands to slide up the thighs of friends, to satisfy moist fruitful vines (as the naughty Victorian Lady would call it).  The sounds of orgasms fill the theatre, as the spanked bottoms are gently massaged with the aromatic cream before the audience. The gas footlights light up the blushing pink bottoms perfectly.

What a sight for the masturbating girls to look at!

Abigail studies the crowd at this stage with her own small pair of binoculars. When she is satisfied most have done, she makes a discreet signal to Georgina. She knows a few will not have finished, and loves to get one in focus and watch their torment, or how they try to finish themselves.

In their pairs, the spanking partners leave the stage to reap their rewards in the spanking booths. Scarlet, turns and bows her bottom to the audience, which gets a resounding smack from another customer on the front row, and leaves.

An erotic spanking act on the trapeze follows, with many ooohs and ahhhhs from the crowd.

Two Inveigle Girls on the Trapeze by Asa Jones

Then it is time for the stars of the show to take centre stage.

Rose resplendent in bloomers and corset struts onto the stage. She stands erect and stares the cheering audience down to silence. She is a magnificent woman, a beautiful woman, the most beautiful of all ‘The Inveigle Girls’. Her blonde hair catches the light, as do her teeth and eyes. The girl in charge of the gas increases the pressure, which turns the lamp lights up bright, so that Rose’s eyes sparkle, like diamonds.

The theatre programme describes her as ‘The sweet English Rose of The Inveigle’.

Similar to the accolade that Scarlet received, tokens of adulation and love are thrown. Roses (white English ones), handkerchiefs, knickers, and folded notes cover the stage.

Molly her dark hair tumbling in contrast to her Mistress is pulled on to the stage, and comes to kneels before her, the lights are adjusted and she fades into the darkness.

You look up to the same box which first got your attention, the lady in the black mask has caught your attention as she moves to the edge of her seat, and moves sexily.  She tugs on her own leash, and out towards her comes her slave girl, Nicolette. Her right shoulder is moving rhythmically, you know without doubt what her hand is doing. She never joins in the group masturbation, she knows that many people know this, and enjoys the fact that people watch her slave girl rub her to orgasm. She has a powerful presence.

Molly and Rose begin their act. All eyes dart back to them.

It is set in a boudoir, lit subtly in the middle front of the stage, surrounded by darkness, and stood by a four poster bed in her corset and bloomers is Rose. She is tapping a vicious looking gnarled, long, slender walking stick. “My pretty slave has been naughty today.” She tells the audience.

The auditorium is so quiet, you could almost hear a curled pubic hair land on a velvet seat. Her voice is gentle, yet her ability to converse with an audience, as if having a personal conversation, is nothing short of remarkable. Her eyes had the ability to engage a spectator from a great distance. They reply, in the way they always do to the bright Inveigle stars, in a whisper.

“Ooooh the naughty girl.”

Rose smiles, and taps the stick on her palm again.

The lights on Rose dim, and the lights on Molly rise, to show her stood, head bowed in subservience. She speaks to the audience too.

“I’m a right naughty girl I am!”

She is stood in a scene completely opposite to the decadent boudoir of Rose.

The lights dim, the stage darkens and slowly the audience see Rose again.

This time she is stood flexing the stick. “Is it cold over there pretty slavemaid?”

“Brrrrrrrr ….yes Mistress.”

“Would you like me to warm your bottom up?”

“Yes please my beautiful Mistress.”

“Then come closer my little slavemaid, kneel for me.”

Molly arrives at the edge of the lit area, and kneels.

Rose looks at her, and then to the audience. “It would be rude not to wouldn’t it?”

The audience giggle and lean forward. One large woman at the back shouts “I’ll come and take ye lead lass if she dun a want ye!”

Rose smiles and whispers “Sorry, she’s taken.”


* *

JUST SHOT THIS WITH SAMANTHA AND CHERRY ….lots of photos to add for the star act.

so this space will be filled soon.

* * *

After their act and music fade, Molly and Rose sink into the shadows.

Two more girls walk to the stage holding up a white sheet, and two more walk behind the couple with oil lamps.

A shadow show is last on the bill.

The shadow spanking begins, light fast smacks, then harder, slower ones. Victoria’s hand begins to rise higher and higher as the smacks get louder. Debbie can  be heard letting out little squeals.  Delight or pain? Maybe it was both.

The shadow curtain falls, and Victoria moves to the back of Debbie, she sinks to her knees and begins to lick the bright red bottom. She turns her head to the audience, her eyes bright, wicked, but not cruel. Her hands pulled Debbie’s dumbglutton, (as it was known in those days) apart and licks Debbie’s wet slit, and bottom until she comes in violent contortions and screams of pleasure.

“Fuck me Mistress!”

Victoria again turns to the packed audience, and speaks to them. “Shall I?”

To a woman they all shout their response. “Yes, yes, yes!”

A girl comes back on stage with an oiled leather attachment which is strapped around Victoria’s waist and groin. She leaves, and Victoria begins to stroke the glistening tool as if she was a man.  Debbie begs again, ‘Oh Mistress, please, use me now!’

Victoria turns to the audience and winks again, each member of the audience convincing themselves that the wink is just for them. Then she fucks her hard, until Debbie comes again, with one hand removed from the bar rubbing herself quickly.

‘I need to achieve my own pleasure again now.’ Victoria says to the audience. ‘Who on the upper tier will be the lucky winner of the golden ticket?’

Eleanour  marches to the front from nowhere, draws a ticket from her hat  then holds the ticket aloft and shouts the number out. “Two hundred and seventy six!”

The woman in the black mask hits the edge of her box in a fury with a riding crop, stands up and walks away, she has unfinished business and history with Victoria.

The lady in the winning seat put her half face masquerade mask up, and walks to the stairs with a friend, her ‘prize winning guest’. The audience claps in unison waiting for them to appear on the stage to take their prize. which they do to great applause.

“And that my dear Ladies is the end of the show! Goodnight all. ‘ The Inveigle’ wishes you all a safe journey, and we can’t wait to see you again, bye bye!” Shouts Eleanour as she salutes.

Your eyes dart back to the shadows under the stage as you notice once again the scurrying girl in charge of the lime lights. Every alternate one is quickly turned off, and the remaining ones dim to half light. The effect is stunning.

Abigail, her hair up on the top of her head, with a delicate ostrich feather arrangement, stands up in her box, turns and walks to the stairs.  She wore a low cut dress tonight, which cradled her smooth soft bosom. Her waist was always tied tight in a corset, which gave her a ruddy, wild and lusty complexion. She could have walked straight from the moors of a Bronte novel instead of the private door beside the stage.  As was her manner, she surveyed the scene of a satisfied audience with pride, and one eyebrow raised. People said she could talk with her eyebrows. Many a young Inveigle Girl had shuddered in shame at her harsh stare, eyebrow raised as she was scolded. Others had melted in her gaze of approval with both eyebrows holding the sultry eyes in their shadow.

She knew exactly what was needed at all times, and the girls knew it.

Without question the house girls did her bidding, so too did the show girls. She loved them all like daughters, she’d chastise and nurture as she saw fit. They loved, admired and respected her. She was the Inveigle. But most of all the girls knew one thing for certain, she would protect them, they could sleep easy in their beds because of her. She was constantly busy, always adjusting and tending. The Inveigle was her life’s passion. The girls were her children, and in both esteem and adoration she was known as ‘Mummy Bear.’

Mummy Bear’s parlour was her wonderful abode, a place of soft comfort and love, yet with spanking implements hung everywhere. It could also be a place of punishment, or a place for a consensual erotic spanking.

The name of ‘Mummy Bear’ wasn’t said behind her back, the only thing behind her back was the constantly swaying bottom of hers, still firm and pert despite its years. She knew exactly what they called her, and if she ever heard it whispered or spoken she would clasp her hands in pleasure and smile to the ceiling!

Protection was in her mind as she screwed up the ticket with the seat number of the lady in the mask. She did not trust her, there was something evil about her, and she would never win a night of passion with any of her treasured stars of the Inveigle stage.

She stood back to the wall, as a woman dressed in a police officer’s uniform, gently pushed by her and strode importantly to the front of the stage. She coughed, and then commanded the audience to stand and sing the National Anthem, which was the tradition in every theatre of its day.

One of the women we have followed stands; looks to her partner and sings, hand in hand. Then shaking slightly in anticipation, they look into each other’s eyes, smile, and leave. Maybe it is to browse the shop, where autographed photos of their heroines could be purchased, along with a comprehensive range of spanking ephemera. Or maybe it was to the bar across the road, or a visit to a spanking booth.

 An Inveigle Spanking Booth by Asa Jones

Or simply back to the carriage, as they do tonight. Masquerade masks raised again, they walk, still hand in hand, lit by the gas light to the waiting row of cabs and climb aboard, then sit inside and talk excitedly about the show and in particular about Molly and Rose.

“How do two such young girls end up starring in a show like that?” One of girls asks the other.

That’s a very good question, so let’s continue this story of love and spanking by doing just that. To the day that Molly left school..


Now scroll back to the top and follow the link…

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!