Category Archives: PHOTO STORIES

The Inveigle ~ Chapter 8

This link will take you to chapter seven, each one then has a link to the previous chapter https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=8939

The Inveigle welcomed the girls with open arms, and they sank gently into its bosom. Together with Mr.Trentham and Victoria, they were shown into the parlour.

Deborah introduced herself officially as they sat in her parlour. A homely place with a glowing warm fire, pictures of the Inveigle Girls, past and present, on the walls looked down at them. The mantelpiece had flowers and a clock, which ticked away slowly and solidly. A whatnot stood in one corner with her little keepsakes on, mostly miniature china tea sets. The bay window looked out onto the street below and on the window ledge were pictures of cats. In the middle of the room was a large oak table with a deep green table covering, in the centre of it was an oil lamp. Two more oil lamps were on the walls. At one side of the fireplace hung a leather strap, at the other side rested a cane. A dresser was full of fine bone china. Winged deep green chairs stood around, and some wooden ones were pushed under the table edge. The carpet was thick, and a deep maroon in colour.


‘Well I ought to introduce us I suppose. I am Deborah, I own this place and if you want to, you will work for me here, full time. On Saturday nights we put on a show in my theatre, which was at one time next door, but I purchased it and had doors knocked through. So that half to my right is where we perform, and this half is where we live and entertain our guests.’

She smiled to the girls stood around her as waved her arm gracefully in a sweep, to show them off. These are my main girls.

Charlotte and Samantha smiled at each other and looked happily around the smiling faces. They then looked back to Deborah who was looking more magnificent by the second, her perfectly kept eyebrows held them transfixed.


‘The theatre is not huge but big enough to allow us to perform what we do. Yet it’s small enough to be intimate. I charge half a crown a seat for Saturday nights and it full every single week. That money all comes to me, and in return I provide food, lodgings and protection. I have some rough tough friends in the Irish Quarter, they look after us, and I pay them well. We have rehearsals twice a week, and although we try to keep to the same theme, ‘spanking’, we vary the portrayal of it as much as we can. All the main girls have individual acts too, I’ll expect you two to be trained and to do an act, and I have one in mind. It came from the photographs.

Victoria has told me of your talents, so has Mr.Trentham.’ She showed the coloured photographs to the girls, and the crowded room gasped in admiration.


Deborah told her assembled favourite performers that they were all to have some coloured photographs in their rooms and that Mr. Trentham was going to take them. From now on, every show was to have photographs taken, to be sold as souvenirs.


They all knew him from previous photographic encounters. He stood up and smiled, then sat back down quickly. A room full of provocatively dressed ladies, especially stood so close, was quite oppressive.


‘I can have a studio set up for you here if you like Mr Trentham. These coloured photographs of yours are going to be popular, so if you think it acceptable, we can come to some arrangement about free rent and a cut of the profits for me, what do you say?’


He nodded the affirmative and smiled. ‘Yes please, sounds too good to be true.’


‘I look after those who do well for me.’ She walked to the fire, took the strap and cane in her hands and her tone altered. ‘However, be warned, if anyone crosses me, they will know I am not pleased, and that includes you Mr


He blushed and agreed to the terms. The girls giggled, especially Victoria. ‘Oh he’d like that!’


Mr Trentham slid down deeper into his chair, but there was no escape, his blush was seen and admired by all.


‘As I said….Be warned, this applies to everyone, the punishments could be in here, or, if I deem fit, on the stage before all the other girls, even before an audience, depending on what you have done.’ Deborah hung the weapons back onto their hooks.


The girls looked to one another.


‘Talking of ‘all the other girls’, you’ll see a lot of them. I have a set of girls I call the ‘Inveigle Chrous Girls.’ And a few younger girls whom have been recommended from other establishments, they do jobs like guiding women to their seats, taking coats and so on. The same rules of discipline apply to them.’ She stood with her arms akimbo.

She turned to her favourite girls. “These girls are my shining stars. They need me, and I need them.’ She indicated those stood around the room.
Charlotte and Samanth sat enthralled, nervous, shy, and excited.

She carried on explaining how life at ‘The Inveigle’ worked. Charlotte and Samantha drank the nformation in, like puppies drink warm milk, eagerly.


‘You can be as busy as you like the rest of the time. Any money you make is split between you and me, seventy five percent to you, the rest to me. All our clients are women. No men allowed, except Mr. Trentham, and the odd Irish lad I get to fix things.’


Charlotte and Debbie looked at each other and nodded, then smiled broadly.


‘Nothing to sign girls, if you like it and keep me happy you can stay. If you are unhappy, then you leave, I’ll not hold it against you. Not that anybody ever leaves do they girls?’ She turned to Victoria. “Not really.”


They all laughed at the idea. The happiness and togetherness of The Inveigle shone through to them all.


‘Good! We are a family here, I am your Mum, I look after everything. Tell them what you call me girls!’


To a person they all spoke proud and loud. ‘Mummy Bear!’


Deborah stood, and did a twirl and laughed. ‘That’s right, I am Mummy Bear.’


They had much to learn and explore, but for now many questions had been answered. They were shown to a large room on the top floor, by Mummy Bear, it was theirs for as long as they wanted it. A four poster mahogany bed stood at one side. Along the wall next to it, in the seductive red of the Inveigle was an odd but erotic looking chaise lounge.

‘Put any washing in the basket, the girls will see to it. They will fetch hot water for baths, and wash you too if you like. They are happy to serve. Spank them if they displease you. Right!” She laughed. “I will leave you to it, then when you are settled, go downstairs, out of the front door and across the road to the ‘Three Bells’, you’ll meet your new friends there. So bye for now, I’ll come up here around ten in the morning for a chat, the girls will light a fire for you, I need your skin, hair, nails and teeth to be as perfect as possible, so you don’t do hard work anymore.’ She walked from the room and back to her parlour, where she looked at the photographs with the door locked and a smooth ivory satisfier in her hand.


The girls cried in each other’s arms. They had never been so happy and excited in all their life.


Sat in a booth at the ‘Three Bells’ were Sapphire, Marie, Fae, Amber and Victoria. They all had a glass of Gin, the bottles, one full, one half empty, were in the centre of the table, with two spare glasses by its side. So to was another unopened bottle, champagne. Victoria told them about the girl’s history, and the others listened intently. By the time the door opened tentatively they all felt a need to embrace and comfort their new companions.


Another new experience awaited them. No matter what tales you may have heard about Victorian London, nothing could prepare anyone for this. The girls pushed through the varnished doors, both with etched windows of bells.


Oh what a sight!


Artists, models, street girls, poets, dancers, singers, circus performers and The Inveigle chorus girls, were all chattering away and laughing. It was a Bohemian den. Smoke hung in the air like a thick mist, the smell of beer and spirits hit the senses. Photographs adorned the walls, there was hardly a spare inch. Famous people from the music halls, and such like, as well as all the girls of The Inveigle were represented in sepia. Their eyes soon found the Inveigle Stars, and with waving beckoning hands they were summoned to the most welcoming table in London. Two Gins were poured, the first of their lives, soon to be followed by two more, and then two more.


Within an hour the house was singing uproariously to Sapphire on the piano and the tunes being led by the huge voice of Marie. Arm in arm they rocked left and right at the table, ‘Down at the old Bull and Bush la la la la laa!’ Sapphire had her top hat at a crazy angle over her forehead and wore a monocle. To finish, they toasted their futures, with champagne in Italian Crystal flutes.


Next morning they awoke with their first hangover, with two young girls gently tapping them on their shoulders. They were wrapped naked around each other on top of the bed. The girls found the state of them amusing, and giggled.


Two tall freestanding hot baths were stood scented and steaming before the coal fire, by the side of them were two mahogany tables with twisted central legs. On these tables were two tea pots, cups and milk.


‘Oh Samantha, I’m going to get used to this very quickly.’ Charlotte said as she stepped gently into the bath and slid down into the water.


‘Me too Charlie!’ Said Samantha as she slid down into hers and felt the soothing warm water cover her body.


‘Shall we wash you?’ The taller of the two girls asked.


‘Yes please.’
‘Yes please.’

Agreed the two new stars, eagerly.


The sun shone through the window, steam rose gently into the air and caught the sun to make shafts of sunlight stream into the carpets. The fire was well stoked and the flames lapped merrily. Two gilt chairs, with purple studded velvet stood each side of the fire place with white soft towels. The girls were dismissed after giving them intimate washes.


Charlotte stood up first and walked to their chaise lounge. Samantha soon followed and they dried each other.


Close to the fire, they embraced and looked at the time, it was only nine fifteen. They sipped tea naked and talked. Their voices faded, their love shone through their eyes.


‘Let’s finger each other Charlotte, I need you, do you need me?’


‘Oh God, yes.’


They fell to the floor in each other’s arms to roll on the thick cream fireside rug. Kisses were as deep as their probing fingers, tongues played with tongues. Then they both kneeled, nipple against nipple, eye to eye. They licked each other’s fingers free from their covering of love juice.


They mirrored each other’s actions then as each right hand gently caressed a tight firm stomach and slid down through pubic hair, to slip two middle fingers into their pulsating cunts.

Then they fingered hard and fast until they came, as they stared into each other’s eyes.


Still naked, lying on the chaise lounge they spoke of love, and then there was a knock on the door. ‘Come in.’ Called Samantha.


Mummy bear walked in with a smile and sat between them. The fact they were naked and obviously in some post orgasmic state of bliss did not strike her as unusual or embarrassing at all. With a hand on a cheek of each girl’s bottom she asked if they thought they would like it here.


They both said yes.


They looked across her face into each other’s eyes and smiled.

Simultaneously they lifted Mummy Bears’ dress to reveal a naked groin. Then they gently lifted a leg each and placed it over their laps. The door was wide open, as now was Mummy Bear’s pussy. One fingered and the other rubbed as she reached an orgasm laid on her back.


‘That’s how grateful we are Mummy Bear.’ said Charlotte.


‘Yes, we are so very grateful.’ Ascertained Samantha.


‘Oh Good.’ Said Deborah, and she lay on her back for a full five minutes more. Not knowing where the idea came from, Samantha picked up a soft hairbrush and began to comb the pubic hair of her new Mistress. Charlotte picked up another and in alternate brush strokes they made the dark triangular bush look a smart, well tended, beautiful lady garden.


‘I have spoken to my stars, and all have agreed to donate the day to you.’ She spoke as the girls continued to brush. Arousal took hold again.


They both nodded and looked pleased.


‘All I want you to do today is go to each of their rooms, talk to them, each one on their own, and learn what they do. Then tomorrow I want you to spend the day with me, we will dine out and later take afternoon tea. We will try to create a format for your act. On the day after, Saturday, you will see how we prepare, and then you can have a box in the top tier, wear masquerade masks and watch a show.’ She smiled.


‘Yes Miss, thank you Miss.’


‘You can thank me as you did before, a few minutes ago please.’ Mummy Bear asked with a small blush.


She reached another orgasm quickly, kissed the girls and told them where to start their exploration. ‘If I was you, go to the foyer and work your way up through the rooms, you’ll see the girls making masquerade masks, they sell like hot cakes, or maybe I should say hot bottoms!’ She stood to leave and looked at her two new starlets with a kind warm stare.


They looked back and blushed a little, she liked that.


‘Bye bye for now my treasures, if you have any questions just pop along to see Mummy Bear, and I’ll try to answer them.’ She walked to the door, stopped, looked over her shoulder, smiled again, and left.

Inveigle – Chapter Seven

Chapter Six is here, and each chapter is just a click away, until you get to chapter One, enjoy!…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=8756

Continued…. The girls felt like they were wrapped in cotton wool as they stayed in isolation in their bedroom and upper floor, whilst preparations for an escape to London were made.

The photographs were developed, coloured and framed in Mahogany. This wood, although expensive, was a favourite of the lady whom Victoria was going to see. She took six, each in matching frames with a deep maroon mount, cut in an oval.


Abigail was expecting Victoria, after receiving a letter two days before. Arms outstretched in a warm embrace ‘Mummy Bear’ welcomed back one her old Inveigle Girl at the entrance. ‘It’s good to see you Victoria, come and tell me all your news, and the photographs, I’m dying to see them! And who are these two naughty girls you speak of so highly, do you think them


‘Oh God yes Abigail, I’m not sure if any has tasted a man, I think them both virgins.’


Abigail smiled, certain clients would pay handsomely for virgins.


‘Talking of Sapphists, how’s the ‘masher’ who started just before I left, she almost got me to stay you know! Dressed like that, oooh!’


Abigail laughed as she showed Victoria through the resplendent Mahogany double entrance doors with stained glass. ‘Speak of the devil!’ She laughed, as Scarlet was on her way to the bar across the road, she needed her daily dose of absinthe, the delicious pale green liquid which took her away to a fairy land, along with much of the rest of Bohemian Society who socialised around the theatres and brothels of London. Even in day time she cross-dressed as a man in top hat, black suit with white gloves, shirt and bow tie. Her bright red rose matched her glossy lips. ‘Me? The devil? Ha, give me some credit Mummy, I’m much worse than that amateur!’


Victoria laughed. ‘Oh it’s good to be back, why did I ever leave?’


Abigail took her arm, turned to her and pushed her face up to an intimately close position. ‘You would be as welcome as the flowers in spring my lovely, come back to my bosom, come back and suckle with mummy bear!’


Victoria blushed, and had to cool her face with her fan. ‘Oh yes please, Mr Trentham has been a delightful adventure, but my heart is still here. I’d love to come back Mummy Bear.’


‘Then consider it done my lovely. Now, tell me about these girls, you said in your letter that they came from the same mill as you and Fae! Are they manufacturing them there?’ She laughed as she placed two china cups and saucers on the green velvet table cloth.


Victoria looked around the photographs in Mummy Bear’s parlour, all those frames, matching the ones she had in her bag, with all the girls she had ever had working for her. All the beautiful girls she had had, in more ways than one. She looked up to her photograph, it was four years old now, yet it seemed like only yesterday when she had met dear Mr. Trentham for the first time. How time flies.


Abigail poked the fire, and poured the tea. ‘Milk or lemon?’


So it was, as if she had never left, a soothing heart warming chat in Mummy Bears parlour. A delightful pastime, which made you feel safe, looked after and warm from head to toe.


The photographs were laid out on the table and Abigail was delighted, more than delighted, she was ecstatic. Praise flooded from her lips, they were the first coloured photographs she had ever seen, they were naughty, and magnificent. She spoke of her plans, that every room was to have naughty photographs, showing the skills of the girls and to ignite the imaginations of the female visitors. They were all to be coloured like these.

Victoria knew that Abigail would want the girls and the photographs, but all the same, when confirmation came from that mouth, and the eyebrows, it was lovely. She couldn’t help herself, she needed the attention she had missed so much. ‘Please may I sit on your knee Mummy?’


‘Of course you may, but take your undergarments off first.’
Soon Victoria was riding the lap of her Mistress in ecstasy , she was back where she belonged, on Mummy Bears lap, why oh why had she ever been away. All the girls loved the talented fingers of Mummy Bear.


After another refreshing cup of tea, Abigail stood rinsing her hands. ‘That was nice, did you enjoy your visit to Mummy Bear’s Parlour.’ She smiled broadly to herself as she looked down at her hands. She knew that Victoria would be blushing again, she liked to see a girl blush, on all four cheeks If at all possible.”


Victoria returned by a steam train from Waterloo feeling excited, but a little sad that she was to tell her Mr. Trentham that she was moving back. But it was not the end, she would see him most weeks and she had the news of all those naughty photographs for him to take!


She arrived back at the studio to deliver the news, and it was accepted, as she thought, with mixed feelings.


She comforted Mr. Trentham that night with stories of the girls she knew and why she could never be totally satisfied by a man. She promised him that he would be allowed to watch her with some, and that many of the girls who were to visit him were liberated and always very grateful of any help. And hope was given too…”Maybe, you could spend more time in London, I think she wants lots of work!”


Charlotte and Samantha could hardly sleep. Tomorrow they were going to go on their first trip to London since they had left as orphans, and on a steam train too, how exciting was that!


Mr Trentham decided to accompany them on their adventure, he needed to see a friend of his who was situated not many streets from ‘The Inveigle’. Hopefully he could use his studio, Deborah was a good client who paid handsomely so long as the work was perfect and on time. He had lay in bed, in the middle of the night, thinking of little else.


Their little country station was on a branch line, they would have to change trains at a town a few miles away, then it was a pleasant coastal route which swept up into the city.


The town’s station had four platforms and was quite a busy place due to the cattle markets there. Lots of people went to buy cattle and other livestock, today was market day and the place was busy.


They didn’t notice the lady on the other train opposite sat with the distinguished man with greying hair. She sat back in her seat, and nudged her Doctor husband to look. ‘So Victoria has had something to do with this has she? We knew our Mr. Trentham had something to do with it, from the card. He’ll have to pay, and so will she. Then we will bring the girls back to where they belong. I know where she will be taking them, I know it very well indeed. I think I’ll need a bigger mask my love.’


‘Yes dear, of course dear.’ The train pulled away, and went down the branch line on which the girls and Mr Trentham had just travelled.


The journey to London was a happy one for the band of four, a light hearted breezy sort of journey. It matched the weather.


As the train pulled into London the girls went quiet. It was busy, it had gay bright signs and posters, yet also dirty smoke stained buildings. They were so high. They could see famous places that they had only read about, and they were not going back to the slums of their childhood, they were going to a better sort of area, not posh by no means, but a thriving bustling busy area, where anything and everything happened, every day.


Victoria and Mr.Trentham then guided them to a horse and carriage, and the busy streets drifted by like another world, so different from the dark brooding mill where the journey from this place had taken them to all those years ago. It was a triumphant return, old enemies were left behind and almost forgotten, this was a brand new start, on a bright sunny day. Life and the future looked good.


The carriage pulled up outside a brick building four storeys high, the outside wall ran in a curve, it was almost like a small Albert Hall. ‘Come on girls, this is your new home! It’s time to meet Mummy Bear!’


They both looked bewildered and said in unison. ‘Who?’


They looked up at the dark red sign with gold lettering, it read ‘The Inveigle’.


Their eyes slowly moved down to the doorway, and there to greet them was the most unusual sight they had ever seen. A young woman in a top hat and dressed in a suit. A small girl whom they thought they had seen before somewhere, she had a purple bowler hat with a feather stuck out at a jaunty angle, another girl who was very young winked at them and was smoking a pipe, in the middle was an older lady who was soon to be introduced as Mummy Bear, and leaning against the door was another lady in a top hat, with a bright red sparkly jacket, in her hand was a whip.


Mummy Bear spoke first. ‘I knew you were almost here, I have eyes everywhere. So I thought we would do an Inveigle welcome, Eleanour, do your stuff.’


The lady in the red coat, top hat and carrying the whip, walked out to stand before them. She turned to The Inveigle, swept her hand towards it in a majestic sweep, and cracked the whip! Dust rose into the air from where it struck. She looked at them and slowly walked up to their faces.


‘Welcome to the wonderful, the marvellous, the naughty and downright rude Inveigle!’ Her voice boomed and the whip cracked again. ‘Come on in!’


The people in the street let out a little cheer, the girls knew beyond doubt in just a few seconds, that this was where they belonged. With pats on the back, happy smiles and promises of friendship they were ushered into a stunningly beautiful and clean foyer.


They had arrived at The Inveigle for the first time.


A delightful treasured memory that would last forever.

Click here for chapter eight https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=10839

The Inveigle – Chapter Six


​It was six in the morning, eight hours after the girls had begun to run when Miss Blunkett walked by their room ringing the bell. ‘Come on, get up, I can’t hear much movement in there. If you are sore and stiff it’s your own fault! Come on, there is work to be done!’


​Silence greeted her shouts, so she opened the door. The room was empty, all trace of the two girls had gone, it was as if they had been spirited away. She had no choice but to raise the alarm, she would be beaten black and blue if she didn’t. She clasped her hands together, looked to the heavens and whispered ‘Forgive me girls, oh my lovely girls, run for your lives!’ Then she rang the bell and shouted loudly. ‘We have runaways! We have runaways!’


​The Master and Mistress awoke with a start, dressed quickly and went to find out what the commotion was. On hearing the news anger swelled rapidly inside them. They both knew instantly that they now had an excuse to whip them badly, all they had to do was catch them. Questions were asked about what time they were last seen, and if anyone knew where they might go.


​News spread fast throughout the mill and the servants. They felt fear for the two young girls, they willed them to escape.


​The girls became tired but still kept running, fear was their fuel, they had kept to the road as much as they could, the surface was hard and would show no signs of footprints. A couple of times they had hid behind trees as carriages or riders went by. They knew that their maids’ attire was a give away, and they also knew that a reward would be offered, they felt vulnerable. Their plan was to get to the town of the photographer, hide until dark, then seek out the address and beg for mercy using Victoria’s name.


​The plan was working well, after hiding in a barn they kept to the shadows, and crept along the edge of the streets. Both were terrified of capture and what would ensue, but managed to keep going, thirsty and dirty. Twilight had come and gone, it was almost dark.


​They heard the dreaded word ‘runaway’ mentioned occasionally by people who passed by, news had spread, and soon they recognised the man who had first brought them to the mill, standing on a box, in the main square, under a gas lamp. ‘The Mill has two runaways, as far as we know they are dressed in their grey coats and black and white maids attire. They’ll be looking for help either in this town or another. We are offering a handsome reward to the finders!’


​They only had one corner to sneak around and they were on the street they needed. A crowd gathered and listened to the man, who gave out vile accusations of theft and cruelty to younger innocent girls. They needed to be taught a lesson he said, one that they will never forget, help us catch these wretches and save them from a life of crime! Let us make an example of them in this town square!


​The girls crept slowly, keeping away from the gas lamps as best they could and carefully tucking themselves into the dark edge of the shop fronts, under the overhangs. All the people were looking to the man, inadvertently he had given them the cover they needed. Once around the corner they ran to ‘Mr. Trentham’s Photographic Emporium’ and knocked loudly on his shop door.


​The mill’s overseer had stopped shouting his lies, and people had soon dispersed. Some which they could see in the distance were coming towards them!


​Lights came on in the shop and a young handsome man in his early thirties opened the door, stood behind him was Victoria! ‘Come in, come in!’ She shouted. The man looked shocked and bemused but because Victoria obviously knew them, he let them in.


​They had escaped! Just!! Curtains were quickly drawn and the girls ushered into the back room.


​Victoria soon put paid to the lies the man might hear, and assured him of the girl’s good name. Hot tea, soup and bread were given. Soon afterwards both were tucked up in a soft bed.


Obviously it would cost money to keep them hidden a while, and they had none to offer, but they had come with an open mind and knew what they had to do to survive. So their life of sexual adventure began. In return for naked pictures of the two firm breasted, plump bottomed, slim girls, they would get fed, and clothed.


Weeks passed by, they felt safe and hidden in their room above the studio. With its own little fireplace, and pictures on the walls, they felt pleased and happy. Their love grew day by day. Also by night, one night in particular became a fond treasured memory. They lay in bed, Charlotte on her back naked, and Debbie on her tummy, with her face only inches away from her friend’s pussy, her fingers stretched and toyed with the pubic hair.


An oil lamp was turned down low, rain hit the windows, they both felt warm, safe and able to relax.


Charlotte looked to her friend and asked a question. ‘What did you mean when you said that being my Domme is all about respect?’


‘I knew you’d ask me about that, but you took longer than I expected.’ Smiled samantha. Her smile could melt anyone’s heart easily.


‘Sorry, but tell me please.’


‘It’s only my interpretation, but this is how I would like to be your Domme, and how I would like you to be my submissive. First I would have to work out what you like, also what you don’t like but would be willing to do for me, and what you wouldn’t do at all. I’d want to know your thoughts on being punished and how. I would like to know all about your submissive feelings and just how you would like to submit to me. Would you adore me and be like a lap dog? Would you perform naughty acts for me? Would you let me use my mouth and tongue down there, would you use yours on me? What about spanking, I mean hand only? Or maybe canes and paddles? How could I make your submission be delicious. We have so many things to explore together!’


‘Yes, it seems we do.’ Answered a curious, wide eyed Charlotte.


Samantha continued. ‘Then I would learn how to please you with what I have learned. How to include pain and fear and respect limits. That is the key word, respect. I want you to fear the cane, and flinch at the thought of pain, yet at the same time long for it.’ She opened her legs at this point to allow Charlotte’s fingers easy entry.


Soon a loud enthusiastic orgasm had been reached. Talking like this was to become a private enjoyment on many occasions, they were young with much to explore and learn.


‘Finger me now.’ Charlotte asked and started to roll over.


‘Stop! Let this be my first real command, don’t make it so easy, nor so ordinary. Beg me, get on the floor and beg me.’


‘If this is our first exploration, shall I call you Mistress?’


‘Yes, I would like that a lot.’


She slid to the floor and with the firelight glowing on her naked body she crawled to her Mistress. She knelt before her and spoke in a soft, weak, needy way. ‘Mistress, please my beautiful Mistress, I need to feel your fingers inside me, and the flat of your hand on my bottom, hard Mistress.’


‘You learn quickly, don’t you?’


‘I hope so Mistress, because if I don’t, then I expect to be caned Mistress, or have your hairbrush on my cheeks Mistress. I like the idea of being punished by you very much Mistress. My bottom is yours Mistress.’


Samantha moved, and sat at the end of the bed. ‘Over my knee, you needy submissive slut! And there is no need to use the word Mistress quite so much.’


‘Yes Mistress.’ She stood and lowered herself over her Mistresses knee. Her toes pushed into the floor, as did her fingertips.


Starting slowly, and quite gently, Samantha began to spank the shapely bottom over her knee. Her cheeks soon danced in the firelight. ‘Describe your feelings to me Charlotte, I need to know what you are thinking.’


‘Oh yes I will, and in return Mistress, please describe yours!’


The spanking continued with the description of a Domme and sub being spoken. It was an erotic moment.


‘I love the noise as you spank me. I love the thought of being a naughty girl over your lap. I imagine it being in the street! With people watching me get spanked. I want to please you, I want you to find my bottom the most spankable, the curviest and most beautiful bright red well spanked bobbing bottom in the world. The warmth from your smacks are perfect, it is now seeping through to my pussy. I can feel myself starting to climax as I tighten and loosen my muscles around my clitoris. I need more pain, I want faster spanks, oh god, spank me please mistress spank me hard and fast!’


‘And I want to turn your bottom bright red, I want to see it move and wriggle. I feel in control of you and love it. I will finish only when I am satisfied and want you to know this. A Domme must always decide,man ever the submissive. I delight in the idea that you cannot escape. I love holding your waist tight and seeing your legs kick. I want you to be humiliated, to be seen in this position. I want people to envy me and want me to do it to them. I want to spank harder and faster!’


Together they gave and received the spanking.


Charlotte came to her climax on Samantha’s knee to the sound of hard spanks.


Afterwards they kissed and embraced, their love delved deeply to unchartered depths. As did their wet slippery fingers.


Two more orgasms followed.


Their new found career developed at the same speed, just like the photographs in the dark room. It changed direction too, once the bruises of their beating had subsided, they spoke to Victoria again, and asked about what she had said to them, about being spanked on camera. They were happy for board and lodgings, but could they actually make money if they did this. They let it be known that they wanted to do this, because it was what they did in their private room, they revealed much to an absorbed Victoria.

Victoria was quite an enigma, she often caught the train to London to see some people from her ‘old life’ as she called it. She would not tell the girls …’yet’ she would often tantalise the girls with. ‘But one day soon I will tell you of my adventure!”

The reason she went to London was to sell Mr Trentham’s naughty photographs, and a dear old friend of hers was a good customer who sold lots of them at her outlet.


Spanking! Lots of delicious spankings were coming their way, to be recorded on photographs. Some of the photographs were to find their way to London, and into to the hands of her old friend, called Abigail Hayes, who ran a brothel of sorts called ‘The Inveigle’. She was looking for photographs to adorn her walls. She sold photographs of her girls from her shop in her theatre, on Saturday nights. Photographs of her stars, signed. She wanted the rooms to have themes, predominantly consisting of bondage, submission, dominance, and masochism.


The photo shoot which first put them in popular demand took place with the two girls and Victoria about six weeks after their escape. They had learned the rudiments of photographic, and pornographic shoots quickly, they soon began to offer their own ideas.


It was one such idea that soon caught Abigail’s attention when she saw the results of their work.


The photographer had finished doing family portraits for the morning, it was time to set the stage for one of his ‘special’ shoots. He did this at noon, when the light shone through the skylights to embrace the studio. A few “weeks ago it had been him who had instructed the girls, but since then he had been tactfully told that his expertise in lighting and the art of producing a good photo was his forte. Now the ideas of their content, came from them. They had tried a few of their ideas over the past weeks, and it was soon apparent that their imagination was far superior.


‘Let’s produce a set of photographs where two girls submit to their Mistress. Let her use them and in return let’s make it obvious that they love it, every bit of it, let us show the world how beautiful a relationship like that can be.’


All he could do was swallow and nod enthusiastically in agreement.


Victoria had agreed to dress as they decided and be a submissive to Samantha along with Charlotte.


What followed was magnificent, the two girls were dressed in camisole tops, this had the effect of covering their breasts in a loose way, protected, but only just. They were free to swing and move naturally. Charlotte had a deep mauve colour camisole, and Victoria a black one. Both wore knickerbockers in plain white, frilled at the knee. Striped stockings were the fashion of Parisian Bawdy Houses, and the photographer had managed to get some. Mauve and white striped for Charlotte black and white for Victoria.


‘What a shame they will only be seen in sepia’, commented Mr. Trentham. He loved the authority that title gave him. Not that they ever needed reminding whose shop it was, but all the same, it pleased him to be shown such respect.


‘Not if we colour them in!’ Suggested an inspired Samantha.


‘Actually, if I print them on the right paper, that might be possible! Samantha you are a genius!’


‘Oh. Thank you, kind Sir!’


Such was the light friendly atmosphere they had become used too, jollity was never far from the camera lens.


Both the girls wore ankle length brown boots, and shawls over their shoulders. They smouldered sexuality.


Samantha walked from behind the screen and the others fell silent at her aurora. She commanded everyone in the room with her gaze. Even Mr.Trentham was under her spell.


​She was dressed in a long bottle green, almost black cloak with a hood, underneath which she wore a tight corset which was pink and black striped. Her knickers were short, and she too wore stockings, black ones. The flash of thigh between stocking top and knicker leg was stupifyingly gorgeous. She had leather gloves and matching black boots. A riding crop was in her right hand, and she slapped it against the palm of the left.
​She suggested that the shadows of her approaching in the cloak, would look sexual and menacing, and give the scene a dark gothic atmosphere, as if it was in a large old house.


The two girls glanced at each other, both thought of the mysterious black cellar…back at the house they had fled. Imagine if Samantha was the Mistress of that house. They would never have left!


​‘Oh wonderful marvellous, where do you get these ideas from? I have some gothic backdrops, we could use those.’ Mt Trentham was almost dancing in delight.


‘We talk at night and make stories up.’ Charlotte told him.


​‘Ohh.’ This was the only reply he could utter, his cock was held firm in his hand as he was under the black sheet, covering him and the camera.


​The shoot produced a wonderful set of glass negatives.


​Samantha hung a length of thick cord from an overhanging beam and tied the girls up and caned them. She then stood between them looking superior as they were bent over on each side, their moist lips on view. They went over her lap, between her legs, under her, and over her. She spanked, she flogged and she caned. They crawled and begged and masturbated before her. To finish she used the latest Victorian massager on them both. The final shots had them spreading her legs and licking her to orgasm.


​The three girls handled and talked about the wonderful didlo afterwards, whilst Mr Trentham packed his expensive photographic equipment away. Many a Victorian young woman or even old spinster had now come across these. There were many designs, and the excuse for the doctors using them on their female patients was what was classed as hysteria. Nowadays it would be classed as depression or anxiety, and the cure was pelvic massage leading to ‘Paroxysm,’ now known as the female orgasm. Of course the illness was prone to repetition and repeated treatment was required, hence, to free the doctor’s time, these many inventions were patented and intended for self help with the problem. Probably the most fabulous was the steam driven one developed by an American, Doctor George Taylor. Doctors in the day were actually trained in their use, since they were first heard of in 1869. The first electrical vibrators appeared in the 1880’s.

(note…all that was fact.)


​The photographer walked back in and disturbed their intimate conversation. He praised them highly, and together they felt proud and aroused. Victoria could hardly wait for Mr. Trentham’s cock to slide in deep and satisfy her when in their room that night.

Charlotte and Samantha needed to eat each other, and they did not want to wait, but wait they did. Mr Trentham was a little obsessive about things being kept in order and they had to wait for A while as they cleared away.

As they were doing so Mr Trentham went to the shop and turned the sign to open again, just in case someone popped in.


​Someone did, almost straight away.


​The girls stopped instantly as they recognised two voices. Their hearts beat fast, beads of sweat bubbled up on their brow, they began to shake. Mr Trentham quaked too.


​The Doctor asked if Mr Trentham was ill, he said he looked pale. It took all his strength to reply and keep conversation going. They discussed a portrait of the fine couple, and something quite unusual. It seemed that Lady Jacqueline had found a delightful place to frequent on her trips to London with her husband. Masquerade masks were all the rage and she wanted some photographs of her wearing her black ones.


​She said that she would pop in to finalise arrangements in a few day, and would most likely have more work for him if his work was satisfactory.


​It was time to run again. This was too much of a coincidence, they would almost certainly use a photographer in London, not some small provincial one.

And they were right. Only days after their escape Lady Jacqueline had found the other piece of paper in their old room, with this address on.


London was not that far away, it seemed to beckon them. Mr. Trentham would still be able to produce photographs for them, he had a couple of London Studios he could use which belonged to friends. Victoria told the girls of her exciting place. ‘Let me take a set of these photographs when they are coloured and framed to someone I know. I think the girls are ready to meet a lady named Abigail, she’s lovely, and was like a mother to me for months, before I met this handsome man, she could very well be the same for you!’


​Mr Trentham blushed. But he agreed that this visit from the Doctor and his Lady, made them suddenly feel too close for comfort, it certainly was time to put distance between the girls and this locality. Both him and Victoria had talked of spending more time in the big smoke, maybe they might do so now. Especially now the little group had bonded so well.

But for now, it seemed imperative to get his new found stars away from here.

The recent account of a ghastly murder of a prostitute in London had spooked him though. ‘Make sure you are safely lodged, I can pay you an advance, it will not be long now before money will be filling your purse. What I saw through the lens today testifies to that!”


​And so a delightful respite came to an end, London beckoned, so did a delightful protective woman, and ‘The Inveigle’.

The Inveigle – Chapter Five

​No photos in this chapter yet. This is my pet project, it will be illustrated, a lot of photos are already taken. But be patient, for now, I am just adding my writing.

…continued

Although the walk was humiliating, Charlott felt excited by it, to be seen naked, walking down these rich corridors not knowing who would be around the corner was in a strange way, liberating. Her bottom hurt, at every step it felt as though someone was holding hot coals very close and she dare not stop.


Samantha too had a similar feeling, she felt aroused by the humiliation of being seen naked. She imagined herself spanking Charlotte at every step, and people enjoying seeing her do so. She held back and slowly allowed herself to walk behind her friend, her bottom swayed in such an erotic way.
​One corridor in particular was narrow, she walked up closer to Charlotte and cupped a cheek of her bottom in her hand, gently, it felt hot. It was an amazing feeling, the tips of her fingers were in the crease where the bottom meets the back of the thigh, every step on that side made it feel as if her fingers were being bitten by some big soft lips.

Charlotte let out little moans as her delicious crease nibbled her ever more dear friend’s fingers.


Eventually they reached the kitchen and walked in.


Miss Blunkett, the housekeeper who doubled as a cook, turned towards them. ‘You two stupid young girls, have you any idea what you have done?’
They looked at each other and then towards the assembled little audience of two parlour maids and a footman.


‘So you think you can just come and collect your clothes and carry on as normal do you? Cavorting around the house as if you own it? Have you any idea how badly this reflects on me? And the others too?’ She pointed to them. ‘Hmmm? No! I thought not!’ Her face was red, the vein on her left temple was visibly throbbing.


Once again the girls looked towards each other, they knew what was coming. Their punishment was far from over it seemed.


The nearest girl to Miss Blunkett, Samantha, was dragged unceremoniously over the housekeeper’s big soft lap where a heavy, long, hand spanking over the already flaming red cheeks ensued. Her bottom was towards the gathered group of staff, her face stared at a white washed wall. She yelled and kicked but could not escape, towards the end every slap was excruciatingly painful and sank deep into the existing pain, bringing it back two fold. Eventually it ceased, and she was made to stand with her hands on her head facing the small group who stared back at her. There was little sympathy.


Charlottee was over the ample lap next. The public humiliation she had yearned for only minutes before was suddenly being granted in the most humiliating way possible. Naked, before the people you had to share every day with, being spanked, hard. And humiliate herself she did! She kicked squealed and begged forgiveness all the way through.


She too was made to stand by her friend, hands on her head and head up, not hung in shame. They were told to let other servants see their shame, by bending over, hands to the wall, legs apart…wide apart and straight, on tip toes.


Eventually the afternoons work was done, they could see that their actions had affected everyone. They were all extra busy because of two silly, naughty, naked girls. The glances became more and more resentful. They were well and truly in disgrace.


The two girls were eventually told to get dressed. It was so good to be able to bring their arms down, come off tip toes, bend their legs, and at last, rub their very sore bottoms. Miss Blunkett sat by their side on a high back wooden chair. ‘Come here.’ She said in a voice more like her usual soothing tone.


They walked to her and stood before her, fully dressed in their white pinafore dresses, over pale brown smocks and white mop caps.
‘I had to do that, she told me to show no mercy. Apart from that you deserved it, but not as bad as what she gave yout. Listen…’ She beckoned them close.


The two girls bent painfully towards her.


‘Be careful. She is evil. Why do you think we need so many replacement girls here, do you think all the others have gone off to some wonderful future? Let me tell you they have not. Most have left broken, both mentally and physically, a few have simply vanished. I have it on good authority that more than one now reside in asylums. Lady Jacqueline is not the person that she projects to the world. She is untouchable almost. Her husband is a respected surgeon in London you know, she is respected with him in high society. On her own she can be sadistic, believe me, I have seen the stitched wounds. But together, him and her, they can be cruel beyond belief. You have made an enemy today, she will not rest until you two are broken and dismissed. Do everything perfect from now on, try not to make a single mistake, that’s the only advice I can give. But my dears, I gave the same advice to the last two, and the two before.‘ She sat back, clutched her apron to her face and cried.


The two girls began to shake as they too joined her in tears.


The Housekeeper finished off with one last thing, maybe a hint at what to do, or a warning, they were never quite sure. ‘Remember Fae, that high spirited one who got into more trouble than anyone else at the mill? Remember how you all were shocked at how she was picked to work here? How lucky you thought her? Well listen hard; they brought her here to break her, and they almost did. But one night she got free and ran, ran for her life! I mean literally, she ran for her life. The day before she ran, she told me she had been in the black cellar. She said she had seen things there which made her blood run cold. As far as I know she is the only runaway to make it. Three others tried, and all were found. They are the ones who have vanished. Listen to this and do what you think best, now be off with you!’


The girls went to their room at the top of the house. They lay on their beds in turn as the other gently rubbed some white oily mixture which Miss Blunkett had given them, into each other’s bottom. It was dark and candles flickered their caressing shadows on to their white spartan wall.


As they lay there letting the soothing oily ointment soak into their bruised buttocks, they reflected on the day’s events. Their concentration was broken by the sound of carriage wheels on gravel, and horses hooves. They looked out of the window to view the circular raised garden and carriage turning drive which ran around it, their Master was back.


He was an enigma, hardly ever at home, and when he was, their paths didn’t cross. This was their only view of him as a rule.

NOTE :

near where I live is Welbeck Manor, a beautiful country house. The fifth Duke who lived there was an enigma, he lived underground, beneath it, where he had ballrooms, libraries etc. He went upstairs at night. He spent a lot of time in London, people at the time thought he might be Jack the Ripper. He never let common people see him, even his carriage was windowless, just small holes to peer out of. He had his own railway station! From it led a driveway, to the tunnels. Fabulous tunnels, big enough for carriages to ride down, lit by gas, not lamps, huge jets of gas flame, straight from pipes sticking out the wall. Imagine them! Flickering away, lighting up the tunnels. Did you see the BBC production of Macbeth? They filmed some of it down there. He had a trap door in his bedroom, where dressed in his black cape, like Dracula he could run, to one of many secret trapdoors, to jump out and surprise maids and workers.

I have been exploring a few times. I talked to a wonderful (rather sexy!) young woman who showed me a tunnel. I told her what I was writing, and she said…”spanking? Oh yes, there was a lot of that here.” But annoyingly, refused, point blank, to enlighten me. It made my imagination go wild, what was behind all the old dungeon like doors? Alas, I will never know, BUT..

I can imagine it….here, in this story. The local around here had, and still have, a name for the mad Duke, it is straight out of some Gothic Horror, they called him…THE PRINCE OF SILENCE…

If you want to know more of him, google it, see where I have been walking, and exploring.

…continued

Two black sweating horses stomped, slid and whinnied to a stop at the command of the driver who quickly jumped down, to place a chock either side of the wheel nearest to him and open two wide, stout oak doors. A set of steps two treads high was placed by the highly polished door and he opened it for the master to alight. He was smartly dressed in a dark suit with a rich red waistcoat, a white shirt and a paisley pattern neck tie with a stud. This caught the light of the horse lamp and glistened as he stepped down. After placing the top hat on his thinning black and grey hair he took his usual brown leather doctor’s bag off the seat.


Unusually his wife came to greet him, they had a quick excited conversation, and chillingly they both turned to look up at the two horrified girls, who both jumped back from the curtain. Together they climbed back in, and the carriage disappeared into the tunnels.


​They clutched each other and stood in silence, dreading the sound of steps on the stairs. Or even worse, a creaking behind the walls, the rumours of secret passages seemed very real tonight. The wind outside grew, the window rattled, but thankfully no creaking stair was heard, no muffled sound from a tunnel or passageway either and eventually they sat side by side on Charlotte’s bed.


​It was Charlotte who spoke first. ‘I’m scared Samantha, cuddle me.’


​Samantha gently held her terrified friend, and that was the moment when love rose to the surface of their friendship like a bubble, to pop and cover them both, for the rest of their lives. She looked down into the eyes of Charlotte and told her. ‘I love you.’


​The gentle moment allayed their fears as Charlotte whispered back. ‘I love you too, I couldn’t survive here without you, oh! I need you so much.’


​In Victorian times there was a word used to describe the love of two young women, usually used at a finishing school or similar. It was a word which described the act of exchanging trinkets like locks of hair, and other things like love notes, to be collected by the recipient and saved in a trinket box. The word was ‘smashing’.


​When the gifts of poems and suchlike had attained their goal, they were said to be ‘smashed’.

That is what they called women who dressed as men on the London stages ‘mashers’, and women like ‘Gentleman Jack’ called their girls, ‘their masher’.


​These two poor young women did not have the luxury of being at a finishing school with the means to do such things, they hardly had nothing to call their own. They were quite literally just one step away from the poorhouse.


​But from this day on they were rich beyond their wildest dreams, in their love. It was a love which ran deep and solid with the foundation of fear, shared hope, and hard times. They were smashed!


​One thing they did have, was a little piece of card each with the name and address of the photographer which had been given to them by Victoria. Samantha bent down to lift the floorboard and reached in to take them out. Both kneeled to look in as she did, and their only belongings stared back, two dried old daisy chains, and two matching stones in the rough shape of hearts, found one beautiful summers Sunday only a few week ago, when they had both almost confided their love.


​As they were looking at their treasures, so too was Jacqueline. She had climbed from a tunnel, with him, and was stood by her chest of drawers, near the fire in the bedroom. She had just finished telling her ‘Prince’ of the beating, and the second one she had instructed Miss Blunkett to give. She pulled out the top drawer, and looked at the array of canes and floggers. She pulled out the second to look at the straps and tawses. The third had restraints. She was naked, apart from the favourite black masquerade mask she liked to wear, her ripe body reflecting the fire. She slid to all fours and crawled to her Master and asked him to beat her.


​He went back to drawer one and took a long yellow flexible rattan cane from Germany. He swished it, and the terrible sound made her flinch.
​She bent over the same lion stool as the girls and took twelve light strokes on her upturned cheeks. She could not take anything firmer, the collection was for them to use on their prey. Her bottom had twelve very light pink lines. Her master stood behind her, undid his breeches, took out his manhood and fucked her hard.


​She turned to kiss him and saw the splattered blood on his shirt. ‘Oh God, is that from a patient?’


​‘Sort of, my love, yes sort of.’ He replied coldly. He closed his eyes and thoughts of the open wound, filled his mind again.


​Jacqueline went to bed, and quickly fell to sleep. The master of the house went to his tunnels, and walked to his study to drink whiskey. He sat at his desk and dipped a quill into a small pot of ink. Taking a piece of thick bleached paper he wrote his wife’s name. ‘Jacqueline’. He shortened it to another and wrote ‘Jackie’. Then he laughed, he had found the name he had been looking for, the one to taunt a particular adversary of his. He wrote the name… Jack.


​He wrote it ten times in slightly different styles, none were satisfactory, they looked too educated. He took the quill in his left hand and dipped it in again, this time it looked right, almost illegible. He sat down and wrote a sickening sinister note, and signed it.


​Upstairs the bedroom of the two girls found them talking about domination and submission. Charlotte finished the discussion by saying this.
​‘A true dominant woman shows respect to her submissive. All I could see in her eyes as she beat you was sickening, frightening sadism. It’s time to go, let’s run, let’s run now. I fear there is nothing but misery and death for us here.’


​They climbed onto the flat roof of the grand old hall, it’s gothic towers standing tall before the moon. Wearing their grey woollen coats over their two sets of clothes. Everything they owned was on them. It was a dry night but cold. They crept to the end of what looked like battlements and carefully climbed down onto another roof. They could see the mill staring gloomily towards them. Everything looked sinister, and forbidding. A tree grew close to a corner and they used it to get to ground level.


​They fled, as fast as their legs could carry them, through the park land, and on to the main road

Go to chapter six here …https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=8756

The Inveigle – Chapter Four

NO PHOTOS IN THIS CHAPTER…YET,

just one of my drawings.

…continued

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.

Samantha being spanked with a hairbrush, just after
Charlotte has been.
by Asa Jones


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 and adding a chapter at a time.

Here is chapter five…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=8636


The Inveigle – Chapter Three


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.

To read chapter Four

Click here…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=8543


The Little Town of Spankington

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 silly 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 up on to the bus, yanked her knickers down, and with a stout stick he keeps in the luggage compartment, gave her a good hiding before them all.

Samantha was the next girl to get in trouble. She was in the cafe, and because of her passion for cake…

Note, this is true, for a young woman with a lithe body and slim waist, her capacity for eating cake is quite remarkable!

…In the cafe she had eaten two, then looked in her purse, to find only a few pennies, and decided to steal a cake off the table next to her when the gentleman, a regular, a bus inspector, who was sat there, went to the toilet.

The only thing was, she had two chocolate ones and when the man questioned her, and caught the attention of Ruth, the owner of the shop, who came to talk to her, the woman stared at Samantha’s face and said, “Just a minute young lady, let me get my order pad.”

She came back to point out that she had had two chocolate eclairs, so why did she have strawberry jam on her face? And a paper napkin with it on too? The missing cake was a strawberry jam doughnut!

She confessed.

Unfortunately, at that moment P.C. Tawse came in for his usual cup of tea and toasted tea cake. He was a strapping man, and his tummy ruled him. To walk in with a sense of hungry expectation, and have it dashed when he was asked to intervene. Annoyed him, he dealt with the matter quickly!

Ruth dragged the girl upside, pulled her knickers down and dealt with the matter swiftly as P.C. Tawse recommended. Samantha’s friends were on their way to meet her, only to find her getting a bare bottom spanking and her bottom almost the colour of blood!

When the P.C. The Bus Inspector and Ruth were satisfied with the glow, Samantha was told to pull her panties up and go, but poor Samantha had a terrible shock then, as she noticed her neighbour stood watching in her red coat. “I am going to tell your Mummy about this!”

Ruth, the P.C. and Inspector laughed as they saw her face, and said, ‘she’ll not be coming to sit on one of your wooden chairs for a while!’

I will tell you of some more of their notable exploits as time goes by, so call back, often….bye.

The Spanking Book

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.

“Hello!”

“Hello!”

“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.

The Inveigle – Chapter Two – The Interval

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

…continued

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.

A Spanking Booth in the Lanes – by Asa Jones

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.”

She turned to her friend and smiled. “Thank you.”

Chapter Three, click here…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=8446

Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls – Chapter One

 

 

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…