Deborah is Charlotte’s real Mummy. They both love spanking, Deborah to give, Charlotte to receive. They both have agreed to keep a Strict Mummy and naughty daughter relationship. Out of this they both live the normal lives we all lead, but it is a deep rooted need in them both, if Charlotte is naughty she gets spanked. On the spot, for serious offences, but as a rule, Mummy runs a merit / de-merit system. These acts, no matter where or when, are reported to Mummy by everyone who knows Charlotte, me included.
Each good act deserving praise gets a +ve mark, any misdemeanour gets the opposite, a -ve mark. Each Friday at 8 o’clock, Charlotte goes to her Mummy’s house, just up the road, to find her fate. Waiting by the door, without fail, is a folded piece of paper, with the result of her actions.
Sometimes it is just a spanking, at other times an implement. Sometimes on jeans, sometimes a raised skirt, sometimes with knickers, sometimes without.
I am privilidged to be allowed to watch, up in their private punishment room, and record it for you…
She’s lovely is Deborah. This is no act remember, this is the real deal. This is a strict mummy, waiting for her naughty daughter.
In she comes, to pass over the piece of paper and receive her sentence.
Bad news, she has been a cheeky naughty girl all week and it’s time to pay!
It starts on her jeans, I rather like to see a girl get spanked on her jeans, tight across their bottom.
Look at the enjoyment on Charlotte’s face! And Mummy’s! Yes it is a punishment and will get more serious. But for now, they are both exactly where they want to be, doing exactly what they want to do. All the tensions of life, of the week, are getting a glorious release.
The real names of Samantha and Charlotte are not a distant memory, but a secret from everyone, a reminder of circumstance that they do not want to share. A time that is lost to them, and they wish it to remain so.
Their ‘birth’ into their names happened thus…
From an orphanage in London the two girls along with many others in the wagon made of steel which looked like a Black Maria arrived at Abbey Mill on a cold November evening. The day’s work for the millworkers had just finished and the sound of clogs rattled through the air, and their inquisitive minds. They had heard the sound of a steam whistle as they approached, just as the horses walked steadily through the mill gates, they now knew what it signified. The end of a shift.
‘Get off, and hurry up about it.’ Instructed the stout man, wearing a green waistcoat over a frilled white shirt, under a tan leather long coat.
And that was it, their old life behind them and their next, which would take them up to the age of eighteen, began with a jolt. They had sat opposite to each other all the way and a silent bond of fear had grown between them. A bond which would grow stronger, and one day discover love.
Two girls sat near the door were taken first, and ushered into a reception room, where they were given names beginning with A and B, dressed in rough grey woollen dresses, their hair, and teeth were examined. So too was their body, for lice. If any were found they would be hosed naked in the yard, and then disinfected.
Nobody walking by made comment, nearly all of them looked with sympathy, after all, everyone here had gone through the same shocking introduction to Abbey Mill.
It was now the turn of the tall blonde third girl, who looked forlornly at her new friend opposite as she was pulled roughly from the cold carriage. She was given the name Charlotte, the next one was given the name Deborah.
The nineteenth and twentieth girl, ‘S’ and ‘T’ alighted. Samantha and Tomassetta were born.
The years that followed were harsh, but they survived quite adequately by hard work and dedicated servitude. They were educated and fed, with Sundays off, church in the morning, and time to themselves in the afternoons. Life in the summer months, were bearable. Some Sunday afternoons in particular were remembered with fondness. But the winters were hard, cold and bleak. A few weaker letters of the alphabet didn’t make it through the first winter, but as time went by, the remaining twelve out of their batch made it to eighteen.
They had signed papers on their tired day of arrival which had made them property of the mill. They would have signed anything to get a meal and a bed. On their eighteenth birthday they had a choice, sign up for more or leave. On a few occasions some were offered better jobs, possibly in the Master’s house, the laundry or even the offices.
Victoria, an older girl was a great influence on them but on her eighteenth birthday she had told the master that she needed him and the mill no longer and walked out as ‘bold as brass’. They missed her, but they were soon to find, that she did not vanish from their lives completely.
On their Sundays off, the millworkers could receive visitors, so long as they had not picked up any disciplinary points. Rules were adhered to rigidly.
It was one such Sunday; six months after she had left, and two weeks before their shared birthday, (the anniversary of their arrival) that Victoria had managed to get to see them. They took a walk by the river, and on to the mere. Victoria brought fresh fruit and beef sandwiches, a banquet!
She looked beautiful and well dressed. How had she managed to become so grand?
To keep this interesting, but separate long story short, she told them how she had met a photographer whilst she had worked in a hostelry. One thing led to another and she was now a nude model, working for five photographers who paid her handsomely for her favours.
Especially one, who liked to take photographs of her being spanked!
The girls giggled excitedly at this, and Victoria told them all about her saucy, naughty adventures. She said she had told that photographer, a Mr Barlow, that she knew of two girls who would be perfect, the pair of them together especially so! Because in her opinion they were beautiful. She asked them to think about it seriously, and gave them a business letterhead, and telling them to hide it in a safe place. They would not be allowed another visitor for three more months; she would come back for their answer then. She urged them to consider it favourably, with their looks, youth and figures, they could make money. If they were willing to be spanked, they could make a lot of money, and if they would take the cane, on camera, they might even become independent young ladies.
They lay in bed that night whispering until the early hours of Monday morning. The spanking idea appealed to them both, more than either, at that time, let on to the other, and in different ways too. Their hands slipped to each other’s pussies and they reached a shared stifled orgasm in their double dormitory bed.
Their hard work, pleasing manner and all round good disposition had not gone unnoticed. Much to the jealousy of other girls they were offered housemaid trials at the ‘big house’. This was seen as a privilege and a reward.
Work was hard and long, but nowhere near as bad as the mill work. They generally looked after clothes, polishing, dusting, serving at the table and general tidying up. Along with any other duty which seemed fit at the time, and deemed appropriate by their Mistress. In other words, they could pretty much expect to do anything, from emptying a bed pan to polishing fine silver or cut glass.
They saw a lot of each other which made them happy, and although some days were spent apart on different duties they always end up in bed together at the top of the house in a bleak little room with ill fitting windows.
Samantha was the bolder of the two, and a month after saying yes to the three month trial at the Master’s House, temptation got the better of her. Their Mistress was out, in the local town, stocking up essential supplies and seeing her friends at the local tea rooms. Their Master was out at a medical call. Although a respected land and mill owner, his name was known in London as an eminent Doctor and Surgeon.
Charlotte had never been upstairs, but Samantha had when on her separate duties. She shouldn’t have, but on two previous occasions she had explored rooms she was not allowed in, and had described the bed chamber of her Mistress to the entranced eyes of Charlotte.
Miss Blunkett the housekeeper was always busy, so were the few servants, but occasionally the two girls actually got top side of their jobs and had time to chat, especially if both the Master and Mistress were out of the house.
The house was empty, other than the downstairs cooking staff. They had a rare day without the supervision of their Mistress. Miss Blunkett entrusted them to polish silver and was busy with her own tasks, what better chance would they ever have to investigate together? They left the silver after a quick rub of the cloth, and hand in hand crept up the grand curved staircase.
Their Mistress was probably thirty five to forty years old, a slim quite attractive woman. She had excellent taste and the two girls loved her dresses and finery. Forest green hat and coat, with tan leather gloves and boots were a sort of trade mark, although she had a few similar outfits. She had forest green dresses, as well as reds, pinks, and many pastel shades. As they walked in to her bedroom they could see dresses in abundance, jewels in pretty boxes, lace, ribbons, bodices, and undergarments. Temptation was irresistible, within half an hour both were dressed like ladies and were dancing and laughing.
Unbeknown to them, the tea meeting had been cancelled at the last moment due to a circulating illness affecting three of their Mistress’s friends. She loved her monthly meetings at the ‘place to be seen’. She was mightily peeved at the irritating situation, it was a hot afternoon and she was going to rush straight upstairs and slip into something cool. Then order a light afternoon lemon tea with cucumber sandwiches, and go and read in the garden, sat in the shade of the trellis .
The Mistress walked briskly through the grand entrance hall and straight up the stairs; on reaching the landing she could hear laughter and gaiety. She trod lightly to the doorway of her bedroom and stood looking through the doorway in disbelief.
She coughed, and stood still, her face stern and set in a severe frown.
The two girls froze on the spot, looked at each other and turned towards the doorway.
Their Mistress took slow strides towards them; she turned to see that obviously many dresses had been tried on, and discarded quite shamefully on the floor.
The girls faces turned ashen, they knew they had done wrong, they knew that they were where they should not be. They had been caught red handed. They could not speak, no excuse was possible. Whatever punishment was decreed they would have to take, they had no defence whatsoever.
At the bottom of the four poster bed stood a magnificent seat, in purple studded velvet, with four gilded lions, one at each corner. Opposite was a dressing table of equal splendour. Resting on it were two candlesticks, an oak backed hair brush and matching mirror.
The lady of the house glided towards the dressing table, her beautiful green and cream dress with bustle rustled as she walked. She picked up the hairbrush, turned to the girls and spoke in soft clear instruction as she patted it against the palm of her hand. ‘Take off all your clothes, I mean every stitch. Stand each side of the lion stool and bend over with your hands resting on the velvet. You are not going to forget this afternoon for a very long time.’
Trembling, the two girls did as they were told too. They had no choice. In the society they lived in they had to submit to both Master and Mistress.
Their faces were only about a foot away from each other as they stooped naked.
‘On your toes both of you! And stay that way. I am going to beat your bottoms severely; I want them pushed up to meet every painful slap of this heavy brush’.
Tearful eyes were locked on each other as they both lifted another two inches.
Mistress walked to Charlotte first. The cold oak back of the brush caressed her cheeks, then smack, spank, whack, crack, smack! The blows came hard and fast, with absolutely no mercy.
Charlotte looked into her friends eyes for comfort and found it. But her own thoughts surprised her… ‘Oh the pain! It burns through my rump with every stroke, it burns like a fire, oh! It hurts so much. I need to escape from it, I need to rub and beg her to stop, but I know I mustn’t. Yet what is this feeling in my crotch, this tingling, and this wetness. Oh stop, please stop…no don’t, don’t stop. Oh every burning hard smack feels like my bottom is being cut deep, the heat, the burning, oh my God when will it end! I don’t want it to end. The heat has come through to my tummy, the pain is magnificent, the submission is delicious, oh my goodness, my pussy is throbbing, and I desperately need to rub my cunt. Oh my bottom, no more please, please no more, oh just a few more, oh god yes, yes!’
The thrashing ended, her mistress walked to Samantha, who was looking deep into Charlotte’s eyes, with longing, and hunger.
Samantha then looked into her friends eyes for comfort as she had done hers, and also found it. The cool oak back of the brush stroked her cheeks and it began. Smack, crack, spank, whack, spank. The blows came hard and fast once more, again with no mercy.
Keeping her lustful eyes fixed on her friends equally lustful returned gaze, she took her punishment well, but her thoughts surprised her… ‘I wish I was doing this to someone, Oh the pain, to inflict such pain on an upturned delightful rump must be amazing. Oh it burns so much, yet is seeps into my soul, it is reaching my pussy. I wish I was thrashing Charlotte’s fine bottom. Oh God this hurts, no more please, please, but maybe a little, oh I am so glad I know how it feels. I want to cause a feeling like this. I wish people were watching, I wish we were at Mistress’s dinner party and all the gentlemen and ladies were stood looking. I want to rub, I want to beg, but if it was me I would double the thrashing if I did so! Oh God I am almost coming, this is so surprising, so different to what I expected. Oh God it hurts, please, please my Mistress stop! I want someone to beg me to stop, I want Charlotte to beg me to do this, and beg me to stop. I want to be called Mistress!’
‘Now stay like that, and think about what you have done, and don’t ever do it again, or it will be my riding crop, in the dining room, before everyone!’ She walked out with all their clothes, and they heard her go downstairs. Charlotte leaned forward and kissed her friend. She kissed her back, passionately.
Charlotte whispered. ‘Will you rub my bottom better later?’ Samantha whispered back. ‘Only if you rub mine, too.’
They kept quiet then, and gazed into each other’s eyes.
Their Mistress returned, and dismissed them, closed the door, lay on the bed, lifted her dress and used the handle of the oak back brush to pleasure herself to orgasm.
The two girls, naked, made their way to see the housekeeper to get their clothes back. The shame of that walk and the stares they received will live with them forever.
The story s finished, I am editing it. Once I have edited Chapter 5 I will put a link here….I hope you are enjoying it so far.
As in the introduction and previous chapters, please understand this is an illustrated novel under construction. I will no doubt change things as later events in the story, and this may affect things, causing changes in earlier chapters, so it all fits together…
Continued from previous chapter…
…The audience has settled down after the interval. It’s time for the stars of the show to take centre stage.
Samantha, the most famous Domme at the Inveigle…
And Charlotte, the most famous submissive…
Samantha, resplendent in a black and pink burlesque style dancers costume struts onto the stage, pink ostrich feathers on her head. Her pink and black mask is held on a stick. She stands erect and stares the cheering audience down to silence. She is a magnificent woman, a beautiful woman, one of the most beautiful of all ‘The Inveigle Girls’. Her strawberry blonde hair catches the light, as do her teeth and eyes.
Similar to the accolade that Sapphire received, tokens of adulation and love are thrown. Roses, handkerchiefs, knickers, and folded notes cover the stage. Tossing her mask to a grateful woman sat in the middle of the front row she turns to look at the rear of the stage and tugs a long black leather leash.
Charlotte is pulled on to the stage, and comes to stand by her Mistress.
Their eyes meet and they kiss, a passionate long sensual kiss. You could hear a pin drop.
Emma looks up to the same box which first go her attention, the lady in the black mask moves to the edge of her seat, sexily. Her right shoulder is moving rhythmically, you know without doubt what her hand is doing.
Samantha and Charlotte begin their act. It is an erotic trapeze act. It is the newest and most talked about act that The Inveigle has ever done.
Two rope ladders fall from above, so do two trapezes.
Charlotte, dressed in a forest green circus style outfit, discards her matching mask, tossing it to the lady sat next to the one who caught Samantha’s. Both girls walk in time to the music which is played by Sapphire on her violin (naked again) and sung gently by Eleanor, who before coming here was an opera and music hall singer. The music is ‘Canzonetta Sull’ aria. It’s beautiful and a trapeze will always swing beautifully in time to it, so too will the steps of a beautiful woman’s bottom climbing up a rope ladder.
In near perfect time they climb up, staring at each other in a lustful knowing gaze. They reach their platforms and climb onto their trapezes. To a gasp Charlotte falls and catches her trapeze bar in one hand, she laughs, turns to place her other hand on the bar and starts to swing. The song drifts through the air beautifully.
Samantha gracefully mounts hers, puts a foot to each side and slides down provocatively, bending her knees. The audience let out a long sigh. She then stands up again and pushes, their timing is perfect as Charlotte meets her in the middle of the air to grasp her ankles. They stare and hold their gaze for a few seconds and release, to swing back away from each other to the sides of the auditorium, and then gracefully back towards each others to show their skills.
They leap through the air, over each other, under each other, and at times it seems through each other, to raptures of applause.
Out of breath, shiny with sweat, they take their applause eagerly.
The song’s volume increases as each girl strips naked on their platform. Samantha sits on her trapeze, legs apart and swings to Charlotte who is leaning forward over hers, again she grasps her ankles, but this time slides up to lick her Mistress, to perform what was then known as ‘tipping the velvet’. An excited Samantha shudders to orgasm quickly. Charlotte is skilled in the use of tongues.
The audience cheer and the girls slide down to the stage, where Charlotte walks to a raised brass bar, on two supports. She stands legs apart and grasps the metal bar, looks over her shoulder and smiles to Samantha.
Samantha walks to her submissive.
The fame of this part of the act is the talk of the city’s underground Domme/sub culture. There was no music now; you could hear a pin drop. Samantha looked to the audience and her eyes caught the light again as she smiled wickedly at them, Charlotte’s responsive body was a joy to see too. Public use of her body excited her to the core; she wanted to be seen being used, as much as Samantha enjoyed the public approval of her sexual skill.
Charlotte was sideways to the audience; Samantha was stood to her side facing the audience and began to run her fingernails slowly, excitingly and sensually over Charlotte’s back, all the way down to the top of her bottom. The delightful way in which Charlotte responded was observed by the drooling audience, half wanting to be Samantha, the other half wanting to be Charlotte.
Samantha bent forward, unclasped her hair and let it cascade over the back of her submissive, she began to kiss down her spine, in little steps, to stop just above her bottom. Her eyes caught the light once again, flashing for a second, like the gleam of a diamond. She stared at the audience and smiled.
Charlotte pushed up on tip toe, her bottom yearning to be licked.
Samantha straightened, with a superior look on her face, to look down at the shape of her pleasure girl. Her fingers of her right hand walked around Charlotte’s body as she arched down again, to reach around to her nipple which she tugged, squeezed and stretched. Her left hand did the same to the other nipple.
Charlotte’s knees tremble visibly, which delighted the audience.
Samantha let go, straightened her body again and slid to her right one step.
Again her eyes caught the audience as one eyebrow rose, and her right hand slid to Charlotte’s bottom. Using just one finger, as gentle as she could, she stroked up and down the crack of her bottom. She shook, and spoke… ‘Spank me Mistress, please.’
The caress continued for a short while, then stopped, it was time to spank.
The spanking began, light fast smacks, then harder, slower ones. Samantha’s hand began to rise higher and higher as the smacks got louder. Charlotte could now be heard letting out little squeals. Delight or pain? Everyone knew, it was both.
Samantha moved to the back of Charlotte, and sank to her knees, then began to lick the bright red bottom. She turned her head to the audience, her eyes bright, and wicked, but not cruel. Her hands pulled Charlotte’s dumbglutton, (as it was known in those days) apart and licked Debbie’s wet slit until she came in violent contortions and screams of pleasure, to scream loudly… ‘Fuck me Mistress!’
Samantha again turned to the packed audience, and spoke to them. ‘Shall I?’
To a woman they all shouted their response. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’
A girl came back with an oiled leather attachment which she strapped around Samantha’s waist and groin. She left, and Samantha began to stroke the glistening tool as if she was a man. Charlotte begged again, ‘Oh Mistress, please, use me now!’
Samantha turned to the audience and winked. Then she fucked her hard, until Charlotte came again, with one hand removed from the bar rubbing herself quickly.
‘I need to achieve my own pleasure again now.’ Samantha said to the audience. ‘Who on the upper tier will be the lucky winner of the golden ticket?’
Eleanour walked on to the stage again and held her hat out to a panting, heaving breasted Samantha. She rested the hat, upturned, on Charlotte’s lower back, who was now holding the bar with both hands again, she too was panting. She drew out a number and passed it over to Eleanor, who held the ticket aloft and shouted the number out. ‘Two hundred and seventy six!’
The woman in the black mask hit the edge of her box in a fury with a riding crop, stood up and walked away.
The lady in the winning seat put her half face masquerade mask up, and walked to the stairs with a friend, her ‘prize winning guest’. The audience clapped in unison waiting for them to appear on the stage to take their prize.
They walked on triumphantly, Samantha took one woman’s hand, and Charlotte took the hand of the other lady’s. Then they all walked through the curtains at the back of the stage, leaving Eleanor stood alone. ‘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!’
Abigail, her hair up on the top of her head as usual, with a delicate feather arrangement, stood up in her box, turned and went to the stairs. She wore a low cut dress, which cradled her ample 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 with 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 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.’ This 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, she would never win a night of passion with her two 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.
Emma and Melanie stood, each looking into the eyes of their partner and singing, hand in hand, then, sadly, it is time to leave. Another Inveigle night over.
Masquerade masks raised again, they walk still hand in hand, lit by the gas light to the waiting row of cabs. They summon theirs, the man was ready and waiting, as always, and climb aboard.
They sit inside and talk excitedly about the show and in particular about Charlotte and Debbie. ‘How do two such young girls end up starring in a show like that?’ One of them asks the other.
That’s a very good question, so let’s begin this story of love and spanking by doing just that.
We need to go back in time a few years to a cotton mill, about twenty miles outside the capital. An austere, grey gloomy place, about as far removed from the comfortable, beautiful, and sexy Inveigle as you could possibly get.
You have by now come across ‘my girls’, my main four models.
Alphabetically they are Charlotte, Kate, Lucy and Samantha.
You are now going to meet them in miniature!
You see, apart from spanking, the love of the female bottom, writing, painting, antiques and the study of antiquities, I have another great passion. Steam trains!
I am making a train set, I love the modelling more than running the trains. My train set is set in and around the fictional little town of Spankington.
The Girl’s School in the town is Saint Winnifreds, run by the very strict Miss Kenworthy.
Four girls in particular were very naughty indeed, and this never ending story is to concentrate on their exploits. There was hardly a week went by with at least one of the naughty girls ending up with a red, bare, sore bottom.
Let me show you an example…
Only last week, Charlotte and her three friends went to the chip shop at lunch, it was called ‘Grandad’s Chip Shop’, run by an elderly man called Malcolm. He knew very well that the shop was out of bounds, but he was usually an old softie and let girls have a bag of chips, so long as they only came once a week.
Today, for some reason only known to naughty Charlotte, she succumbed to temptation and put a bottle of cherryade in her satchel, without paying. Malcolm saw this in the mirror as her put some chips on a bag for them to share. He asked if she was going to pay, but she began to run!
He grabbed her collar, looked in her satchel and before witnesses, took it out. Along with an exercise book, which gave him the girl’s name. He rang school and within a quarter of an hour, Miss Kenworthy was strutting by the shops on Station Lane, brandishing a cane.
Malcolm said a spanking in the back room would suffice, but ‘Oh no!” Shouted Miss Kenworthy, for this, a hard dozen with the cane outside the shop was the deemed punishment!
Within a minute, the girl was on public view, squealing and struggling as a very firm dozen strokes of rattan cut into her bare young buttocks. Malcolm stood watching along with a gathering crowd who said it was what she deserved, and it ought to be two dozen!
It was a day Charlotte would not forget for a while, and to add insult to injury, her three friends watching were told they would each get a bare bottom spanking on their return to school! For going ‘out of bounds’
Kate was the next one to get in trouble…big trouble, she got caught smoking, under age, and fare dodging on the local bus. Upstairs on a double decker, she hid behind a seat, to save paying and having her fare to spend on sweeties. But she was smoking, the sill girl! The smoke trail led the bus conductor straight to her!
How the passengers laughed at her plight and swift justice as he dragged her by the ear, bent her over the high back step, yanked her knickers down, and with a stout stick he keeps in the luggage compartment, gave her a good hiding before them all.
Let me tell you of some more of their notable exploits as time goes by, so call back, often….bye.
This follows on from ‘The Welcome Home’, please remember that as in that story, there are explicit pictures of Samantha. Her Mum follows her on Twitter so please do not copy and use any open leg shots, thank you.
and so it begins…
After being spanked by her disciplinarian Samantha always felt relaxed and happy. The only thing she wished for in a spanking way, was for her friends to know more and maybe even share the experience with her.
Her two best friends, Charlotte and Kate were broad minded and very trustworthy. They already knew she liked to be spanked, because many of their conversations, especially after a couple of glasses of wine, had become very naughty, and on three occassions, they had masturbated together.
Their last meeting over coffee, in a city coffee bar, had once again turned to the risqué side of life, and Samantha had asked them outright if they got spanked at all. To her delight, both had confided pretty much the same, they had tried it, liked it, and wished for more, but like her, before she found her Disciplinarian, it was not something they had regularly in their lives. When she told them of her last spanking, with her neighbour watching, and having to put her bottom on public view, they wanted every detail, and some details more than once.
All were successful in their own fields in a variety of careers and their time was generally their own. Their conversation was quite beautiful, and the bond between them took another step towards the inevitable…in short, they arranged to meet at Samantha’s house, to take the subject from conversation to reality. Their fantasies had overlapped, from school girls to maids to a hundred or so more. But first, they simply decided to spank each other.
However, Samantha took a risk, she had rung her disciplinarian, and asked him to come. Saying that at the very least she would like to be spanked before her friends, but ideally for all three of them to be spanked by him.
And so it was, that when the day came, Samantha felt both excited and nervous. She had a plan in mind, and wrote a note in her jotter for Mr.Jones to read on his arrival.
Just as she was putting a ‘full stop’ at the end, she heard the gate and after a tuneful little knock on the door, Charlotte and Kate entered the porch.
“Hiya”, said Samantha, “come through, the kettle is just boiling.”
“We come baring a gift, a spanking gift!”
Samantha’s eyes widened with curiosity, as she imagined canes, paddles and similar items.
They burst happily from the porch into her study, with ‘Peter Birch’s Big Bad Book of Spanking Positions.’
“Look at this Samantha!” Said Charlotte.
“If we are doing this together, we thought this would be a good start! We got it this morning, you should have seen the man’s face!” Laughed Kate.
They bent over to look at some pictures with Samantha, and soon, they all became enthralled with it.
“Oh wow! This is getting me going already! Let’s have a good look in the lounge, I’ll make tea, come on!” Invited Samantha
Soon, they were all settled down, side by side on a sofa. The book on Samantha’s lap as she sat in the middle. A little like a Mexican wave, shudders ran from pussy to pussy along the cushions as each page was turned.
Within minutes, the girls sat each side of Samantha began to wriggle and make sexy little ‘hungry for attention’ noises. They both drew their legs up.
Their Vulva’s already swollen and nipples hard, the girls hands soon began to rub their moist panties.
“Oh God, you two are so horny! I love it when you do it and I can see, ooooh get your knickers off!”
“I can smell you!” Said Samantha, and soon their knickers were down, and fingers were delving on lovely squishy flesh, making the most delightful, and slowly accelerating noise.
Before long Samantha was sat between two masturbating girls on the verge of orgasm.
As their orgasms hit their clitorises, Samantha grabbed their knickers by their damp crotches and looked intently at their fingering and rubbing techniques. Both her friends came together, making the most arousing, and delightful noises.
Afterwards, as her two friends relaxed in a post orgasmic blissful state, the room became serene, a beautiful little haven of friendship, lust, and naughtiness. Samantha’s own cunt was wet, her vulva and nipples swollen, she felt a trickle as she turned the pages slowly.
Her friends began to adjust their positions, and Samantha felt like screaming out loud, ‘For God’s sake I need to cum, finger my cunt and help me!”
Much to her delight, the girls said. “You must be desperate! Why not take your knickers down?”
“I haven’t any on.” Blushed a shaking Samantha.
“Oh you naughty little girl!” Said Kate.
“You need your bare bottom spanking you do!” Added Charlotte.
Just the word, that beautiful word ‘spanking’, being spoken by Charlotte as a threat, made her pussy have a little spasm. Whatever inhibition she had left flew to ‘who knows where’, as she said…”Talk about spanking and finger me until I cum!”
This was music to her friends ears.
Simultaneously they parted her thighs. “Tell us you are a naughty girl who needs a spanking on her bare bottom Samantha.” Whispered Charlotte.
“I am such a naughty girl Charlotte, I need to have my bare bottom spanked!” She gasped and thrust her wet slit hard against her rubbing Palm.
The girls gripped her wrists and took over the rubbing as Kate said. “I think you ought to dress as a naughty schoolgirl for us, and let us spank your naughty bare bottom in turn.”
“Oh yes Kate, and really hard making my bottom bright red and me scream!”
Her bottom was bouncing in a frenzy as their caress quickened.
Samantha almost squealed, she came so hard, as she shouted. “I’m a naughty girl, I’m a naughty girl, I neeeed, oh God! I neeeeed SPANKING!
She came very hard and wet, and Charlotte shouted. “oh God! You have just squirted on my palm!”
Which made her cum again, wetly.
Kate then said the magic words they all wanted to hear. “I think it is time we all took a turn at being spanked.”
..much more to come, and not just this story, I expect to write a whole series about these sexy spanking friends….so be sure to call back often.
As I write other chapters, be aware I have to come back and alter things, this is not the final draft…you are watching a novel develop… and don’t forget the quality isn’t top notch…yet. But it will be, when finished! I hope…lol
The intervals during an Inveigle show are grand affairs. A chance to visit the beautiful exotically tiled bathrooms, the bars, private rooms, and a walk down the lanes. It is during a visit here that the size of this place reveals itself. It is huge, lots of small back to back, London Town Houses had been purchased over the years, and made into a complicated rabbit warren of a complex.The lanes are like a small indoor town, with rooms to rent, private rooms to use, which can be booked by the hour, courtyard bars, and most famously, the spanking booths. Most of the booths are three sided, with the front open to the lanes where crowds gather to watch. Perfect for humiliation.
Our two liberal minded girls who went to the theatre together, decide to walk the lanes and visit the booths. They always love to watch each other enjoy themselves, and took it in turns to visit a booth. Melanie sat on an opulent studded leather chair to watch her friend, who went into a booth. Emma was going to entertain her friend
Note to self…..DON’T FORGET TO INSERT THE PHOTO OF THE CHAIR! (Just got to remember where I saved the damn thing!)
Emma had just been entrusted with the discipline of the maids at her fathers house. In her mind he had been far too lenient with the pretty girls, and they could twist him around their little finger.
Only a week earlier, Emma and her Papa had returned early to find their two maids asleep, and very little work done. She had pointed out to her dear Papa that he was too soft with them. He knew very well that she was right, and agreed that from that day on, they were in her charge as regards to duties and discipline.
They had both received their first spankings there and then! Her Papa had sat on a chair opposite her, and knee to knee they had both simoultaneously spanked the bare, red, wriggling bottoms of the maids. Papa had enjoyed it, he confided afterwards.
She had been reading articles by Mrs Beeton, of the cookery book fame, about the discipline of maids. She was a great advocate of spanking, and her articles in the ‘Good Housekeeping Magazine’ were fast becoming a Spanking Bible, specialising in the punishment and humiliation of maids.
She knew that very soon she would have to punish her real maids again, and tonight was a rehearsal. She was also going to buy straps and canes from the Inveigle Shop. The maids at home were going to lead a very different life from now on!
The booth she picked had a lovely glowing fire, and two maids, which she had ordered prior to her visit.
Naughty maids, which she soon set about baring their bottoms and punishing. To great applause and encouragement from the gathering crowd. “Mrs Beeton would be proud of you love!” Shouted a stout, severe looking woman. “Make sure you spread their arseholes for everyone to see! That makes them blush, especially if you do it before girls younger than the maids!”
“Like us! Shouted a group of young ladies who had stopped to watch.
So she did, and the girls did squeal with embarrassment, especially as their butt holes were pulled apart and cool air rushed in!
Emma soon had the Inveigle Spanking Maids bent over, with bare bottoms on show, and was using a hairbrush on them, much to the delight of the young ladies.
They were wriggling and kicking in the cosy warm glow of the fire in the grate.
“Make their bottoms glow brighter than the embers Emma!” Shouted Melanie. Which brought forth great mirth.
Soon she sat on the chaise lounge and began to spank the girls in various positions, as the watching crowd urged her on.
First one, and then the other.
Her friend Melanie shouted to her, “Why not get the maids to spank you Emma?”
The watching women loved this idea and Emma agree. “Girls, come and attend to me, first, do my hair. I must look my best for my spanking!”
She bent over for them, and once again the crowd encouraged…but this time it was the maids they called to. “Get revenge, make her bottom burn, get a strap!” They shouted.
They did get a strap, which soon cracked on Emma’s cheeks making them blush a lovely bright red in the firelight.
A bell rang then, it was time to return to their seats, the interval was over.
The atmosphere changed, and air of expectancy descended on the excited women. The two maids made a fuss of their ‘Mistress of the Hour’ and said their goodbyes.
Into the theatre they walked, the wonderful atmosphere, the polished wood, and the red plush seats welcomed their bottoms.
“Oooooh!” Said Emma as she sat.
Melanie giggled and two women taking their seats behind them added, “Looks like someone is going home with an Inveigle Rump!”
Emma blushed as the seats began to fill, and the music began. Melanie took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll rub some cream on your bottom later.”
Imagine a place in the universe, almost the same as here, almost. With one wonderful difference. Spanking!
Spanking is a world wide practice in this world, to keep naughty women in line. The judicial system everywhere is pretty much the same as our world, but, at the first offence, to avoid a criminal record, a woman of any age, is offered the chance to attend a special school. A school where corporal punishment in all its guises, is used at the discretion of the School Head, and staff, for as long as their ‘sentence’ is in force.
Quite simply, they have to agree to having their bottoms disciplined.
One such school is Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls. I am the Headmaster. My name is Mr Jones, Mr Asa Jones. I have been here for five years, things are going well, but it is time for a change. However, before I tell you of the change, let me show you how it is now.
After applying for my school to be a ‘Correctional School’ things grew slowly. At first I mixed the girls on remand with the ‘normal’ girls who found it rather good fun to get these girls into trouble on purpose. This was unacceptable to me, so I took the brave step, just over four and a half years ago, to accept only the girls sent to me by the courts.
I had much to learn. My reputation of being a strict disciplinarian had got me the job, and it stood me in good stead. But the importance of subtle things, like putting a girl back in school uniform, and how it had a profound effect on a naughty young woman. Was something to be learned through experience and guidance. The Board armed me with guide notes and equipment.
We had annual checks. It was tough, but but I stuck at it. But after three years I gained my first ‘Excellent’ rating.
All the teachers in my school were female, and all had their own cane. Discipline ruled. Delinquents came in, and young ladies went out. Only when deemed fit, and after approval by the ‘Board of Remand Schools’.
I ran the school financially and was pretty much like Headmasters of any typical school. However, I kept myself aloof, a figure to be scared of, a man to respect. If you came to my office, you left with a sore bottom.
One girl from those early years, always comes to mind readily, when thinking of a punished bare bottom. Her name was Kate.
I devised something I called the ‘mirror of shame’, the idea being that if a girl saw herself being punished and stood in corner time before it, it would add humiliation to her spanking. Especially as I had many visitors, from the post man, to my secretary, to the town mayor. All sorts of people. If a girl was stood before the mirror, they would stay throughout my meeting.
But, through Kate I saw that some girls saw a spell at my school as something to enjoy. The plan never took in to account the fact that some girls were natural submissives, who needed a spanking and more. Kate was one, and they were my favourite naughty girls, they would return time and time again.
After her first spanking, which you can see here, her entrances into my office annex, slowly became bolder.
Her uniform was often worn provocatively, and this was her most common reason for being sent to me. Each time I punished her, I told her to get it corrected. To be honest, she was a joy to spank!
I had an array of apparatus as you will see over the next few sequences. But all ended up with a session before the mirror. I remember on this particular instance that the postman came in, and left with his face redder than her bottom! The poor young man, I could tell he wanted to stare, but politely, he just glanced.
And so it went on, both submissive and non-submissive girls came in a steady stream, day after delicious spanking day.
Here are some more examples, to show some of the spanking and flogging apparatus I have at my disposal.
This one is a small rocking chair I get a girl to kneel on. Not easy, but brilliant. Once you get into a good rhythm you whack!….they rock forward, usually squealing, then at their full backward rock… THWACK! You can send them forward squealing again! I like to use this when I demonstrate my skill to new staff. It shows me at my flogging best, especially if I do a flourish with the cane in between!
The last couple of shot shows a blubbering girl gently rocking to a standstill. Very satisfying.
I had a padded spanking bench, which meant the bottom was low, yet almost horizontal. Similar to the judicial method of old, this enabled a great swing from well back, to swish down not the buttocks, rather than a sideways swipe. My word! I made some girls scream on this!
Anyway, I could tell you about my vast array of equipment all day! But that is not really why we are here.
As my popularity with the Board of Education grew, so did the number of girls coming from court. Eventually we became an ‘Academy of Correction’, which in real terms meant that all the girls were naughty girls sent from the courts. Slowly our area of induction grew, so that we served the North of the County.
My staff were excellent in both teaching and discipline, but the need for discipline was steadily growing as the type of girl we ‘housed’ became all of the type mentioned above. I started to get the first rumblings of dissatisfaction from them.
My first action was to take charge of induction. This meant that a girl would come straight from court in her civilian clothes, and depending upon what level of correction she needed, she got a suitable uniform, and her first punishment. It was a proviso of the courts that on arrival a girl was punished on admission.
So in they came, some nervous, worried and shy, others full of bravado. They ranged from a timid girl who had strayed, and needed a few terms of harsh discipline, to the brat. Girls who needed a sound flogging on the bare buttocks, regularly, and of increasing intensity, until they behaved themselves.
Let me introduce you to a timid girl first of all, and show you how things proceeded.
This is Molly. She is still here and from time to time needs a plimsol or cane across her cheeks, but all in all, by our standards, she is quite a good girl!
She arrived like most timid girls, quite well dressed and I was struck by her very modern hairstyle. All girls have a ‘mug shot’ for our files.
The first thing I would do, would be to give them a reprimand and tell them in no uncertain manner, what to expect. Then, much to their surprise I would make them strip naked, placing their old civilian clothes into a bag, which was duly sealed and labelled.
I would point out that I knew exactly why they are here, and would make them describe their actions before a cross. Religious or not, confession before this Christian Icon has a profound effect on their mind.
As I tidied away their clothes I would pass whichever style uniform was allotted, and tell them to put it on.
Most would look quite happy about it, strangely enough, although some objected. I think that having the pressures of the modern social media controlled world taken away, and thrust into the 1950’s so to speak, was quite comforting, and to many, very exciting.
We all had to attend a psychology course about the makeup of the young woman’s mind, and it proved very useful. I knew now that the telling off and transformation for most would be quite sexually exciting. So I would leave them alone for ten minutes, to consider things. And they knew that on my return they would be spanked. Very often, in fact, almost every time, they masturbated in my absence.
They knew I understood, and on my return their glistening pussies, damp knickers and smell of love juice would make them blush.
I would usually get straight into their punishment then.
It was difficult to estimate how much a girl would struggle and kick, so for the first time I nearly always put them on the piano stool, bottom high, palms on floor. If they tried to protect themselves they would fall over.
Not only that, it is a very revealing and humiliating introduction to the world of Corporal Punishment.
After their first punishment it was a tradition that they remained on show or in ‘corner time’. Usually as a class of girls they had never met, came in giggling and saying various comments.
So long as they were not too vociferous, I allowed almost anything. The humiliation did the new girl the world of good!
So for now, we will leave her blushing, in face and bottom, before the cat-calling giggling tormentors. And move on to Chapter Two…
She had worked at ‘Jones and Sons’ for eight years now, and her superior had just gone on maternity leave. This was just what she had hoped for, an old ruin in Yorkshire had just come on the market, a big gothic place, which the Managing Director said could be ideal for a T.V. or Film Set.
She was dispatched to a beautiful old village, all expenses paid, to survey the site, take photos, and make a portfolio for presentation to the ‘big’ T.V. and film people. In fact, anyone in media who might be interested.
It was a big task. They gave her two weeks to do it, which was more than generous.
After her first night at the ‘Black Lion’ she had a full English breakfast, and set off to find the ruin, armed with a set of keys. The sun shone, the scenery was beautiful, the sky was blue. What could possibly go wrong?
An hour later, after trying various keys, she was there. The huge squeaking iron gates locked behind her. She got out of her car, which would be perfectly safe locked in, and set off for an initial exploration.
Straight away she fell in love with the place. Crows flew into the air filling the sky with noise, but soon settled to be replaced by the gentle hum of bees, and tranquil bird call.
“Wow! What a place!”
She began by going in the front doorway.
Straight through to the back doorway, and outside again. Something about the light shining through the rear opening beckoned her. The back of the building was mysterious, in the fact that the south wing had a portcullis of sorts.
She walked to it. Almost mesmerised by it, she had dreamed of places like this, but to be here alone, with the keys, just to wander and explore, was a dream.
Her office and responsibilities began to fade quickly. ‘Plenty of time for all that!” she thought.
The Portcullis was like a magnet, she walked quickly to it, turned and backed on to it. “Oh God! This is so like my naughty dreams.” She thought to herself. She took a deep breath and filled with bravery in this enchanted place, she shouted to the heavens…”I want fastening to this portcullis naked! I want to be spanked, hard, then fucked senseless! I am a dirty pain loving bitch!”
The birds flew into the air again, and like some huge organ in a church, breaking the holy silence with a cacophony of noise! Her own voice echoed off the walls…
“bitch….bitch…bitch…” Slowly fading. She laughed aloud, very aloud, and again the echoing laughter came back.
Slowly things went quiet again, an orange tip butterfly fluttered by, to settle on a bright yellow clementine. She felt very much alone, very much excited, and very much in need of her fingers in her dripping wet cunt!
She just could not help herself. It was as if her pussy was shouting at her, “ohhh fuck work, get your fingers busy and fuck me!”
She reached up to grab her tight white panties, which were sopping wet, and pulled them down to the floor.
The feeling of being so very naughty made her drip, she was desperate to get her fingers busy.
“How naughty! I’m getting paid, I should be working, but here I am in the open air, with my knickers down at my ankles!”
The cool air hit her pubic hair and pussy lips, sending a delightful shiver up inside her. She slid to the floor to open her legs and stretch the tight white panties…wide.
It didn’t take her long to cum, twice. The muscles in her cunt gripped her middle finger in spirals it was so intense. She shouted out loud…”I am such a naughty girl fingering my cunt, getting my bottom mossy,…I need spanking! A good long hard bare bottom….ooooooooh…spanking!”
The word echoed off the walls like a hand slapping some firm young buttocks.
Slowly the echo faded, and her amour subsided. The birds came back one by one to settle in the branches.
Her first day at work …::smile::… had passed, it only took that one day for Kate to fall in love with the ruin, it had a sort of hold on her, her pussy had never felt so good. Either to touch and feel, or from her insides, to be touched, fingered and felt.
She went back to the Black Lion, ate well, masturbated in bed, then slept like a log.
She was up late, just in time to be the last one to the breakfast buffet. She treated herself to a magnificent ‘fry-up’ and set off eagerly to the ruin.
As she approached it, down the quiet country lane, it was even better than meeting it for the first time. It was like meeting an old trusted friend. Her face beamed, her pussy went wet.
Kate stripped to her fresh white knickers, opened the gates, feeling confidently secure in her solitude. After parking the car, she walked in just her knickers and shoes, through the ruin, to the portcullis.
It was a little cloudy, and deliciously cool. She backed on to it, the metal, the intense cold of it, felt like a whip lash to her back and bottom. “Somebody come and tie me to this and fuck me without mercy! Let me be your whore! Three of you! One up my cunt, one in my mouth and one right up deep in my arse!” She shouted to the breeze.
Once more Ravens, rooks and crows called back to her in alarm as they rose into the air. She laughed loudly. Never had she felt so decadent and free.
She let her knickers fall to her ankles.
Holding on to some old cord, maybe washing line that she had picked up on her wandering a, she threaded it into the metal and imagined herself waiting to be used by a gang of warriors who had taken some medieval village.
“Gang rape me! Hold my legs up and take me one by one you filthy animals! I’ll wear the fuckng lot of you out! Fill every orifice I have with your warm sticky spunk!”
She turned to the portcullis, the cold metal made her nipples stick out like a cartoon characters eyes in a crisis!
She wiggled her bottom as if inviting the dirty bearded hoard! Then she pushed up to each and every one of them as they pumped into her, again and again, big rough bellies slapping her buttocks, dirty hands holding her hips as she begged for more, wearing them out one by one.
How she laughed at her wicked thoughts. She ended her fantasy by imagining her bottom was stuck out for each one of the thirty warriors to give her six lashes with their broad leather belts on her bottom. “Thrash my arse you dirty mother fuckers! Make it blister!
Before she knew it, it was early afternoon, another busy day done. “Oh bugger it, I’ll start tomorrow!”
She drove back to the pub, ate well, fingered well, and slept well.
A while ago I put an advert out on PP asking for new girls to come to my school for a spanking or more, and the chance to appear in one of my stories.
I was staggered by the response of pretty young girls wanting to come and bare their bottom for a spanking.
I already have my main team of lovely spanking models, that will not change.
I already have a full client list of ‘private customers’ who do not want to be photographed, just spanked in their fantasy scenarios. They come to be spanked for real, very often for a past deed that has troubled them, the most common is bullying someone.
But for one of my stories, I needed new girls, to come straight from court, to my school of correction. To be stripped, put in school uniform, and punished, before being sent to the dormitory to begin their new life. Their sentence, without a criminal record would then begin, under the auspices of Miss Kenworthy. Sometimes a week, sometimes a month, sometimes longer.
The first girl to apply was Molly.
This is not one of my stories. This is a description of what happened with each girl, the real girl, not a story character. The ones who replied to my advert.
Like most newcomers she arrived with her bag of belongings, and obviously a little nervous. We had written a few times prior to our meeting and I had constantly reassured her that I am a gentleman, and what I do is built on trust, respect, and most of all, recommendation.
I soon put her at ease over tea and cake, and before long she was comfy in my warm friendly company, having a chuckle. Then we talked about her spanking.
She told me why she needed a spanking, it was all to do with being unkind to a young teacher, and making her life hell.
So, an hour later after shooting her transformation into a naughty girl in school uniform I gave her a real good telling off about her behaviour, pointing out how the poor young woman must have felt. I told her to imagine the woman was there now, to witness her punishment, and afterwards agreeing to get on with her life, the matter finally being closed.
She said she wished she was.
I told her that if this was in my day as a Headmaster, at my school, in my office, that even though it was her first spanking, it would be a hard long one on the bare, and if she did not apologise and show true regret, I would use the plimsol on her bare behind and quite possibly finish with the cane!
In real life she had had her bottom smacked and stroked, but she had never been spanked. I told her quite plainly that she needed a good spanking and would feel better for it, and that there is only one person who decides when it is over…
This scared her a little, so I offered a safe word and assurance that I would stop instantly. But added, that for her own good she should try to struggle on through the pain and shock, to the end, and be grateful that someone has finally put an end to her guilt.
I told her to stand to my right as I sat on an old wooden chair. I instructed her to lift her gym slip, and lower her knickers to her knees. I turned to take her hand, her delightful pussy was only two feet from my nose. I gave a gentle tug and over she came. Her virginal soft pert young bare bottom arched up towards me, trembling. I could feel her nervousness on my lap.
It was a tense moment, the whole world at that instant condensed to her, in my secluded, perfectly safe spanking sanctuary, draped over my knee. We could make as much noise as we liked, nobody would hear or disturb us. The air was still, sunlight illuminated her firm young cheeks, her fine downy bottom hair stood up.
I wrapped my left arm around her tiny waist and gripped. I raised my right hand, holding it stiff and firm in a slight arch to match the curve of her cheeks.
Using all my skills I began, straight into a hard fast flurry of firm smacks. Four on her right cheek, two on the left, three to each then two on each alternating. The poor girl screamed, bucked and wriggled!
She had no idea where the next resounding smack would fall.
Her right arm flew around in instinctive protection.
Ha! I was ready for that! I caught it easily around the wrist and forced it to the small of her back. ‘How dare she try to block me?!’
The noise she made was a series of loud hisses in the sharp form of …
“Ahh ahh ahh ahhh!”
It spurred me on, her bottom was soon hot and crimson.
No safe word was shouted, so I swung high, and landed hard, watching the shock waves ripple through the soft flesh like the sea might on the shore in a stiff breeze.
“I’m sorry Miss Worthington…I’m so sorry!” She wailed.
I believed her, the apology shot forth repeatedly, in earnest, between her squeals.
I finished the bare bottom spanking using just my fingers, hard and stiff, each smack leaving four white stripes for a brief moment in time as I said loudly “Let this be a lesson you will never forget young lady!”
She squealed her reply as her bottom bounced “Oh it is Mr Jones! I won’t ever forget…thank you, thank you!”
Here are a couple of photos of her bottom after I had spanked her, in position for the shoot…
Breathing hard I watched her cheeks settle. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes as I gently stroked her bottom.
She spent a while in corner time reflecting…
We continued the shoot, taking photos of her red bottom. She asked if I minded if she masturbated at the end. This is very common. I consented and watched.
As she left she thanked me and asked…”Next time can I try the plimsoll?”
The next new girl, in September is Karen, she is playing a girl called Lisa, a name picked by one of my Twitter followers.
Well, she arrived and her spanking was lovely. Not delivered by myself, but by Samantha who gave her a crisp half dozen of the cane too. I always enjoy watching a spanking live, I look at everything in great detail. The shockwaves on the bottom, the expressions in their faces, even little details like smoothing a skirt, or folding a pair of knickers.
She was a much more confident young woman than Molly.
Very compliant too….we’d like to cane you now, is that okay? “Yep!”
I remember all those years ago when I started this journey, thinking, ‘are there really attractive young women out there who want and need a good hard spanking?
Yes, yes yessss indeed Asa, if only I could go back in time and reassure myself then. What would I say? Something like….”just start off with your dream. Do it steady, build up slow. Alwaysbe a nice warm hearted understanding gentleman. Show gratitude and understanding…always, even if they change their mind at the last minute. Build somewhere safe to do it in. Once one comes, that’s all it takes, just one, and then like a forest fire, it spreads and grows! This is you talking Asa! Look, it’s me! A bit more wrinkly, but yes, this old face is you. Ten years from now you will have spanked lots and lots of bottoms, all belonging to genuinely nice educated girls, beautiful girls who have bottoms to die for. And get this Asa! I now gave a waiting list!”
…I told her of the story and she drifted I to the role easily. It was like spanking magic taking place.
Like Molly she was made to change into a school uniform. Watching her strip from her day clothes was a joy. The transformation from a modern young woman to a naughty schoolgirl is always amazing to me. Even my girls. They walk in, full of the confidence that years of modelling experience brings, with all the praise and adoration of how lovely they are. But put a school uniform on them my friend, and watch!
Taking photos in these situations becomes so very real. We three, or more, or less, travel back in time, itis a phenomenon really. I hope explain it well!
Truely ly it is, there whole persona and body language changes. I watched her strip naked, doing exactly as told, and…trust me on this, loving every…single…second! She was trembling in excitement.
Samantha looks tall and intimidating in this mode. Such a gentle well spoken woman and very genuine. But once she is her ‘Domme’ mode, she changes in the opposite spectrum of spanking.
Karen was in awe of her, trying to please her and doing every little thing for her as best she could.i noticed her thigh was wet, she was dribbling with excitement.
Samantha loves to humiliate and stretch the gap between a Domme and a submissive as far as she can. She gave her the largest regulation navy blue school knickers to wear!
The spanking was magnificent. From the ordering to get over her knee, to putting her in corner time. The smacks were full on, hard and fast. Karen squealed and wriggled. A proper yelp, every smack, it was very erotic to watch. And even more to listen to!
To me, a spanking does not have to be brutal. Just firm and crisp, making them wriggle to escape. The joy of a woman keeping in position during a bottom warming spanking, because they need it, because it is exactly the experience they crave, and…they want to please you by taking as much as they possibly can is ‘spanking heaven’. To hear their ties of pain, to see the struggle of the ‘spanking dance’, to be in complete control of their bottom!
They know that the spanking will only finish when either I or Samantha say so. They have to take it.
We watch for every sign of going to far, but some say…”no, give me no mercy!” I love them best of all. Lucy is a prime example.
Here is Karen’s bottom straight after her spanking. I would class it a typical schoolgirl spanking of the time. Enough to hurt and teach a lesson. A good dose of humiliation before her friends to follow too.
The humiliation being that glorious spectacle of spanking, ‘Corner Time’.
Next up is her caning, which she had to take naked.
Under construction….be patient with me, I flit about like a butterfly working on all my things bit by bit…
A very well to do, educated young woman answered one of my adverts.
“Dear Mr Jones.
I have a desperate need to be stripped naked and caned hard on the bare bottom in a derelict building, or at least a building in a state of disrepair. I have heard that you might be able to help.
I replied that I had just the place, and suggested meeting for coffee to discuss it.
The reply was surprising…
“Dear Mr Jones.
Thank you for your kind offer. But I do not want to meet you until the day. I have been told that you are a gentleman and can be trusted. I do not even want to see you on the day, until my caning begins.
Just send a day, a time, and instructions.
I need a thrashing in mysterious surroundings and unusual circumstances. It really is as simple as that.
So I did as she asked. I sent her the address, a date, a time, and a note. I kept the note simple…
‘Once at my studio, go around the back to a small black door. When I see you approach I will leave it open and will meet you at the top floor. You will find the stairs after a while. Strip naked, wear a hat, and climb. On reaching the top floor, turn left and walk. Do not deviate left or right. You will know when you are at the place. Your adventure will not end there, after your thrashing, go to the cellar and follow the dark passage to the end. Do not reply unless you agree to follow these instructions.
Until then, goodbye.
She replied, and agreed.
A month later found her at the back entrance to my studio. With a hat in her hand. I saw her arrive and dashed away to the stairs. I heard the outside door close, and a few footsteps.
I walked quietly and swiftly to the upper floor where I had set up some small apparatus. I waited patiently, more than a little excited by the thought of thrashing a strangers bottom before we had even spoken.
She found the stairs, and out of curiosity pressed the button for the lift. Not for a moment expecting it to arrive.
She turned to face the staira and began to climb them nervously, and excitedly. The thought of a fantasy being fulfilled thrilled her.
Right up to the top. (This photo being small is supposed to make it look like she has gone a long way!)
She turned to her left and entered what was obviously the room in question. “Perfect!” Thought Charlotte.
She had brought a pair of shoes with wedge heels, which she knew thrust her bottom out pertly. She changed into them.
She jumped in shock!
“Do not turn Charlotte. Know that I am watching your every move, and know that I like what I see very much, you please me. Walk to the apparatus and prepare yourself.”
With the walk of a super model she swayed her way invitingly to the small set of apparatus I had clinically set out in the space. I knew it would look small at first glance, but threatenng and austere on approach.
She was nervous, naturally, and also excited. I could see the nervous twitches and involuntary shivering. She was exactly where she had dreamed of being.
I told her in a few simple words, not shouting, just slow and clear…” Bend over the stool in your best position for a thrashing, I want to examine you, appreciate you, and drink you in to my soul.”
My manhood was hard already, but the sight of her, in that hat, bent over, gagging for a thrashing with the cane, excited me beyond belief. But of course I did not want her to know that. I gripped my throbbing cock for a few seconds, and squeezed the gland….”ohhh.”
She may have heard. I gathered a level of composure and walked slowly towards her. I had carefully arranged a small array of equipment. Her mind would logically think that I was going to walk to her and pick up a cane. Little did she know I had a senior dragon cane in my hand, gently flexing on its own will as I walked to survey my prey.
She stirred at the sound of my steps.
“Do not rise at all, do not move…at all. Stay looking forwards.
My first decision was to decide of back stroke, fore stroke, or both.
I am more accurate with a back hand but decided to start with four quick cuts to her plump cheeks completely by surprise, from the other side to this. The apparatus was in the way slightly. I strode back, gently bringing the swaying rattan up over my back.