Monthly Archives: May 2017

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…

“You.”

She let the stick fall quickly with a swish.

Charlotte heard it, “What the fuck was that?”

She looked around the room, feeling a little more than worried, yet 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.”

“Hello?”

Soon the tale of the Rover’s sad demise and of their good fortune in finding Cumley Bottom Hall, with the lovely Victoria was narrated, and Kate agreed to set off that very day, to fetch the car and ‘sort things out’.

She got in her car and drove over the moors to find the place she had never heard of. It was late afternoon when she arrived. What on earth was going on? The place was just a ramshackle pile of stones, an empty shell, a Gothic ruin.

She began to explore. The place seemed so interesting, so vital and alive despite its appearance. It almost invited her in.

Within a few minutes the voices started, and the bells like wedding bells on a happy day somehow began to draw closer and louder.

Surely that was Charlotte…”Kate..Kate!”

She turned but saw nothing, only the grass rustling in the wind, but then came Amber’s voice, accompanied by a giggle. “Kate, we can see you!”

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!”

Crack!

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

Owwwwwwwwwwww!

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

 

 

 

 

 

THE WALK OF SHAME

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.

THE WALK OF SHAME began…

Did their behaviour  improve?

You will have to see, what do you think?

THE END

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She knows you are listening for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stood straight, looking down at her…

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

“Disobedience Sir.”

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

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

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

The same two words excited me too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gorgeous Sir.”

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

“Sorry Sir.”

“Did you get them both inside you completely?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Sir.”

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

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

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

She was mounted.

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

“Yes Sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled.

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

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

“Warm and wet between my legs Sir.”

I could not have wished for a better answer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Sir.”

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

She climbed on to the chaise lounge.

“Pose for me, show yourself to me.”

“Like this Sir?”

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

“Are you going to spank it Sir?”

“Of course.”

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE END