Monthly Archives: April 2021

Inveigle ~ Chapter Five

Chapter 5: Another spanking and a dire warning.

Although the walk was humiliating, Charlotte also felt excited by it. To be seen naked, walking down those rich corridors not knowing who would be around the corner, was in a strange way very liberating. Her bottom was very sore and burned painfully. At every step it felt as though someone was holding hot coals very close and she dare not stop.

Samantha too had similar feelings. 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, a bottom which swayed in such an erotic and mesmerising way!

Along one particularly narrow corridor, she walked up closer to Charlotte and gently cupped a cheek of her bottom in her hand. It felt hot. It was an amazing feeling. The tips of her fingers strayed into the crease where her bottom met the back of Charlotte’s thigh. Every step on that side made it feel as if her fingers were being gently mouthed by some big soft lips.

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

Eventually they reached the kitchen and walked in. The sensual peaceful walk ended abruptly.

Miss Blunkett, the housekeeper who doubled-up as the 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 at them. ‘‘Hmmm? No! I thought not!’’ Her face was red and the vein on her left temple was visibly throbbing.

Once again the girls looked towards each other. They guessed 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, whilst 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 of onlookers who stared back at her. There was little sympathy.

A Mr.Trentham vintage photograph taken of a girl, a parlour maid, getting a brisk spanking from the housekeeper, pretty much as Samantha and Charlotte would before the onlookers. The screams and slaps ooze from this photo!

Charlotte was over the ample lap next. The public humiliation that she had yearned for only minutes before was suddenly being granted in the most humiliating way possible. Naked, before the people you had to work with every day, being spanked very 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 tiptoes.

Eventually the afternoon’s 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 you. 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 resides in an asylum. 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 alongside him in high society. On her own she can be very 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 and 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 were all shocked at how she was picked to work here? How lucky did you think she was? 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 that 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!’’

A Peek inside the Black Cellar…

Lady Jacqueline, you have to realise was an extremely powerful, intelligent woman. Her Doctor husband had talked at length about controlling the mind by suggestion and influence. To an average maid or mill girl, she must have seemed like a force of nature, a dark malevolent force of nature.

It was personified in her room, her cellar.

Most girls returned from her cellar dungeon, but there are no records to show how many did not. It was easy for a Doctor to get a girl into an asylum, and it was just as easy for a Doctor to ‘borrow’ a girl, or two, or more from an asylum, especially when it was his asylum.

The asylum was a place of untold terror, and a girl would avoid it at all costs. So imagine a girl, not so educated, trusting, when knowing that a girl without a position would go to the workhouse, and the next step, for many unfortunates, would be the mad house.

Imagine the maids of Lady Jacqueline who had fallen into disgrace, and threatened with dismissal. What a position to be in, a position where Charlotte and Samantha could find themselves quite easily now, especially when the Lady had seen the react to the punishment like she had.

A young girl would be offered a drink, a good red wine with a potion inside. She would not be at all used to alcohol, let alone a drug laced one. Like an innocent Disney girl, facing a dark Queen of Sorcery, she would be lured easily…”Follow me dear…”

Alluring in her ‘Gentleman’s Attire’ Gentleman Jacqueline would lure a girl behind a curtain, concealing a secret door.
Gentleman Jacqueline would tell the girl to sit.
Gentleman Jacqueline would watch the girl go drowsy, the flickering candles and her soft voice, like the potion laced wine, would intoxicate her.
A girl would pass into sleep looking into her eyes, and when she awoke, as if by some form of magic…
Thinking she had closed her eyes for just seconds, the girl would wake to see some magical transformation.

The girl would realise she was now naked, and at that moment, when Lady Jacqueline could see the realisation…it would begin!
The Conrol of Lady Jacqueline

“Crawl to me!”

…mesmerised the naked girl would crawl to the feet of her Mistress.

There will be more visits to Lady Jacqueline’s Cellar, but back to the story…

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 onto their white spartan walls

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 of 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. He was hardly ever at home and, when he was, their paths rarely crossed. They had heard the rumours of him working with mad women, some even said that guests could prod them with sticks and watch them being beaten mercilessly. This was the only view of him they had as a rule.

Two black sweating horses stomped, slid and whinnied to a stop at the command of the driver. He quickly jumped down, placed a wooden chock either side of the wheel nearest to him and then opened the door. A set of steps two treads high was placed by the door 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 then chillingly both turned to look up at the two horrified girls, who both jumped back from the curtain. Together the Master and Mistress climbed back in, and the carriage disappeared into the tunnels.

​The girls 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 windows rattled, but thankfully no creaking stairs were heard, nor muffled sounds from hidden passageways. Eventually they sat side by side on Charlotte’s bed.

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

​Samantha gently held her terrified friend tightly. 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. Samantha looked down into Charlotte’s eyes and whispered. ‘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 achieved 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 girl, ‘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 anything 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 for each other. It was a love which ran deep and solid with the foundation of fear, hard times and shared hopes. They were smashed!

​One thing they did each have was a little piece of card 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-out daisy chains and two matching stones in the rough shape of hearts, which they had found one beautiful summer Sunday only a few weeks ago, when they had both almost confided their love for each other.

​As they were looking at their treasures, so too was Lady Jacqueline. Back home with her husband they had gone up to their bedroom. She stood by her chest of drawers, near a glowing fire. She had just finished telling her ‘Prince’ of the beating she had given the two girls, and the second one that she had instructed Miss Blunkett to give them. She pulled out the top drawer, and looked at the array of canes and floggers. She pulled out the second drawer 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 to top drawer one and took a long yellow flexible rattan cane. He swished it noisily through the air, the terrible sound making her flinch.

​She bent over the same lion stool as the girls had done and took twelve light strokes on her upturned cheeks. She could not take anything firmer. The collection of implements was primarily 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.

When they were both satiated, she turned to kiss him catching sight of 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 an open wound, surface in his mind.

​Jacqueline went to bed and quickly fell to sleep. The master of the house left her and went 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, but 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….’Jack’!

​Upstairs in the girl’s bedroom the two girls were 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 a 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. Especially if we end up in the cellar!”

The Cellar, cold, and deep. Thirteen steps down, the same as the unlucky thirteen that take you up to the gallows.

There were girls down there now, four of them, in a row of pens, like cages. Lady Jacqueline would have them brought out in the gloom, and go down with a lit torch to use them as her fancy took her.

Most days Lady Jacqueline would go and see her pale pets, to use them for pleasure. Let’s go into black cellar, and have a look at how it is…

​They climbed onto the flat roof of the grand old hall, it’s gothic towers standing tall before the moon. They were wearing their grey woollen coats over their two sets of clothes. Everything they owned was on them. It was a dry, but cold night. 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 parkland and onto the main road

Click here for chapter six…

The Inveigle ~ Chapter Four

Chapter 4: The development of Samantha & Charlotte’s love for each other and for spanking

The real names of Samantha and Charlotte are not a distant memory, but a secret from everyone, a reminder of circumstances 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…

One cold November evening, from an orphanage in London the two girls, along with a number of other orphans, were delivered to a rather bleak and grey looking cotton mill, called Abbey Mill. The day’s work for the millworkers had just finished and the sound of clogs rattled through the air. They had heard the sound of a steam whistle just as the horses drew the wagon through the mill gates. It signified the end of a shift.

The doors of the wagon were flung open by a stout man, wearing a tanned leather long coat. “Get out, and hurry up about it,” he shouted at the tired looking orphans.

The image of brow beaten girls in rags arriving at a mill is not always correct
Very often the orphanage would send them quite well dressed.
Here is a photo of real girls arriving at such a mill, and walking through the existing team.
…an intimidating welcome.

And that was it. Their old life was 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. They were dressed in rough grey woollen dresses, and their hair and teeth examined. So too their bodies were checked for lice. If any were found they would be hosed naked in the yard and disinfected.

Nobody walking by made a comment, but nearly all of them looked on 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 Abigail. 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 was 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.

Real Mill Girls
Overseers, reported to the Foremen.
These women were hard disciplinarians, keeping the girls in their charge in line, with corporal punishment.
Work was hard, but if they worked hard, rewards could be found. Some young botbecame engineers, some girls went into service at the ‘big house’.
Mill girls were in teams, with maybe ten looms to look after between them, they would become unseperable, the bond of friendship great.
Most had their dreams squashed and just accepted being a mill girl.
but not Charlotte and Samantha.

They had signed papers on the day of arrival which had made them the 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 no longer needed him nor the mill any 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?

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. Victoria told them all about her saucy, naughty adventures. She said she had told that photographer, Mr Trentham, that she knew of two girls who would make perfect photographic models, namely Samantha and Charlotte. The pair of them together would be especially so! In her opinion they were both very beautiful. She asked them to think about it seriously, and gave them a business letterhead and told 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 a lot of money. If they were willing to be spanked, they could make even more money. 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 envy and 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, rumours of very strict discipline by the Mistress of the House, Lady Jacqueline were rife.

In truth, discipline of maids was harsh, with Lady Jacqueline using birches, canes and tawses on the bare bottoms of her maids. Using the guidance of the famous Mrs.Beeton, she often punished maids in public, especially before invited friends. Mrs Beeton, famous for her cookery book also wrote in ‘Tatler’ and ‘Good Hosekeeping’ magazines. She wrote all about the punishment of maids, it was a ‘Lady of the House’ discipline manual.

They generally looked after clothes, polishing, dusting, and serving at the table, along with any other duties deemed appropriate by their Mistress. In other words, they could pretty much expect to do anything, from emptying a bedpan 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 ended 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 on 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 personal trademark, although she had a few similar outfits. She had forest green dresses, as well as reds, pinks, and many pastel shades. As they walked into her bedroom they could see dresses in abundance, jewels in pretty boxes, lace, ribbons, bodices, and undergarments. The 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’ 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. She would then order a light afternoon lemon tea with cucumber sandwiches, and go and read in the garden, sitting 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 many dresses had obviously 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 rustling as she walked. She picked up the hairbrush, turned to the girls and gave them clear instructions in a soft, clear voice whilst she patted the brush 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. 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 bent forward 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 my heavy brush. Do I make myself clear young ladies?” She lay a cane between them, to show what was to come.

They nodded their response, too frightened to speak. Tearful eyes were locked on each other as they both lifted another two inches.

Their Mistress walked to Charlotte first. The cold oak back of the brush caressed her cheeks, then, without warning her beating began, She picked up the cane and gave six strokes, and then back to the brush!

Smack, spank, whack, crack, smack!

The blows came hard and fast, with absolutely no mercy. The cane whistled through the air, to land in dull thwacks on the soft fleshy rumps!

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 my bottom 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 and her mistress walked around to behind Samantha, who was looking deep into Charlotte’s eyes, with longing, and hunger. She then looked into her friend’s eyes for comfort as she had done hers, and also found it. The cool oak back of the brush stroked her cheeks, as it had done to Charlotte, and then started to land very noisily across Samantha’s bottom. So too did the long swishy cane!

Smack, crack, spank, whack, spank!

The blows came hard and fast once more, again with no mercy.

Keeping her lustful eyes fixed on her friend’s equally lustful returned gaze, she took her punishment well, but like Charlotte her thoughts also 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 it 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 be the cause of feelings 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 delivering the thrashing, I would double it! Oh God, I am almost coming. This is so surprising, so different to what I expected. Oh God it hurts, please, please stop Mistress! 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 in the household!’

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. Then closing the door, lay on the bed, lifted her dress and used the handle of her 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 lived with them forever.

Click here for chapter five…

Inveigle ~ Chapter Three

Chapter 3: Samantha and Charlotte’s special act

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 walks on to the stage.


Samantha, resplendent in a black and pink burlesque style dancer’s 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, one of the most beautiful of all ‘The Inveigle Girls’. Her strawberry blonde hair catches the light, as do her teeth and her 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 sitting in the middle of the front row she turns to look at the rear of the stage and tugs on a long black leather leash she holds in her hand.

Charlotte is pulled onto the stage and comes to stand by her Mistress.

She is everyone’s favourite submissive.


Their eyes meet and they kiss, a passionate long sensual kiss. You could hear a pin drop.

One of the two Ladies, Emma, glances up to the same box which first got her attention. The lady in the black mask moves to the edge of her seat. Her right shoulder is moving rhythmically, and 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 and two trapezes drop down from above.

Charlotte, dressed in a forest green circus style outfit, discards her matching mask, tossing it to the lady sitting 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. Before coming to the Inveigle Eleanor had been an accomplished opera and music hall singer. The music is Mozart’s ‘Canzonetta Sull’ aria. It’s beautiful aria 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, gazing at each other in a lustful way. They reach their platforms and climb onto their trapezes. The audience gasps as Charlotte suddenly falls and catches her trapeze bar in one hand. She laughs, places her other hand on the bar and starts to swing. The song drifts through the air seductively.

Samantha gracefully mounts her trapeze, 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 starts to push the trapeze into motion. Their timing is perfect as Charlotte meets her in the middle of the air to grasp her ankles. They hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before they start swinging gracefully to and fro from each other. They leap through the air, over each other, under each other, and at times it seems through each other, all to rapturous applause.

A vintage ‘Trentham’ photograph of an Ineigle Trapeze Girl, which was sold as a souvenir. Often signed

Out of breath, shiny with sweat, they take their applause eagerly.

The song’s volume increases as each girl strips naked. Samantha sits on her trapeze, legs apart and swings to Charlotte who is leaning forward over hers. Again Charlotte grasps her ankles, but this time slides up her legs to lick her Mistress to perform what was then known as ‘tipping the velvet’. An excited Samantha shudders to orgasm quickly. Charlotte is very skilled in the use of her tongue.

The audience cheer and the girls slide down the ropes to a small set that has been quickly erected on the stage. Charlotte then walks to a Vaulting horse, being led by Samantha on a leash.

Samantha tugs on the leash as she nears the horse. “It’s time to concentrate on your bottom my pretty slave.” A huge cheer greets the news.

“Bend over.”

Charlotte stands close to the vaulting horse, and bends over.

She looks over her shoulder and smiles, as Samantha pats a stout leather tawse on her bottom.

Samantha looks 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, just a silence that positively dripped with anticipation.

Samantha looks to the audience and her eyes catch the light again as she smiles wickedly at them. Charlotte’s responsive body is a joy to see too. Public use of her body excites her to the core. She wants to be seen being used, as much as Samantha enjoys the public approval of displaying her sexual skills.

Charlotte is sideways to the audience, whilst Samantha is standing to her side facing the audience. She begins to run her fingernails slowly and sensually over Charlotte’s back all the way down to the top of her bottom. The delightful way in which Charlotte responds is observed by the drooling audience, half wanting to be Samantha, the other half wanting to be Charlotte.

Samantha bends forward, unclasps her hair and lets it cascade over the back of her submissive. She begins to kiss Charlotte down her spine in little steps, stopping just above her bottom. Her eyes catch the light once again, flashing for a second like the gleam of a diamond. She stares at the audience and smiles.

Charlotte pushes up on tip toe, her bottom yearning to be licked.

Samantha straightens, with a superior look on her face, to look down at the shape of her ‘pleasure girl’. Her fingers walk around Charlotte’s body and reach around to her nipples, which she tugs, squeezes and stretches.

Charlotte’s knees tremble visibly, which delights the audience.

Samantha lets go and slides to her right one step.

Again her eyes catch the audience as one eyebrow rises, and her right hand slides to Charlotte’s bottom. Using just one finger, as gently as she can, she strokes up and down the crack of her bottom. Charlotte shivers and speaks in a lustful, needy voice,

‘Spank me Mistress, please spank my bottom.’

Samantha continues to caress her bottom for a short while, then stops. It is time to spank rather than caress her very naughty little submissive’s bottom! This is the part of the act that everyone has been eagerly awaiting.

The spanking begins with a flurry of light fast smacks…..smack, smack, smack, smack, smack! Then harder, slower smacks…..SMACK! ….SMACK! …..SMACK! As Samantha gets into a rhythm, her arm rises higher and higher and the smacks get louder and louder, echoing around the auditorium……SMACK! ….SMACK! …..SMACK! SMACK! ….SMACK! …..SMACK! Charlotte can now be heard letting out little squeals. Are they squeals of delight or pain? Everyone knows that it is a combination of both.

Charlotte is a real ‘pain slut’. She relishes the sting of her mistress’ tawse across her naked bottom. It hurts, but it also generates a wonderfully delicious warmth in her loins that has her juices running freely. She is also very excited by the knowledge that lots of ladies are watching her bare bottom being soundly spanked. She is a real exhibitionist!

As the spanking continues, members of the audience egg Samantha on, shouting out comments such as “Her buttocks aren’t red enough yet….wallop her bottom harder!…. Make her howl and beg for mercy!”

Charlotte’s spanking comes to an end. Samantha moves around behind Charlotte, and sinks to her knees. She begins to kiss and lick Charlotte’s bright red bottom. She turns her head to the audience, her eyes gleaming brightly, with a wicked grin on her face, but with no trace of malice showing. She knows that Charlotte loves being spanked before an audience.

Her hands pull Charlotte’s ‘dumbglutton’ (as it was known in those days) apart and licks her wet slit. Charlotte wriggles and writhes in violent contortions, and screams with pleasure, clearly teetering on the verge of an orgasm! She shouts out in an urgent voice, ‘Fuck me Mistress….oh please fuck me!’

Samantha again turns to the packed audience, and asks them. ‘Shall I?’

To a woman they all shout their response,”Yes! Yes! YES!…Fuck her! Make her scream with pleasure!”

A girl suddenly appears next to Samantha with an oiled purple leather dildo.

Samantha takes it, and begins to stroke the glistening tool as if she was a man. Charlotte looks at her mistress and pleads again, ‘Oh Mistress, please, use me now!’

Samantha turns to the audience and winks, then shouts as loud as she can…

“Who wants to see me shove this dildo right up Charlotte’s arse!!!”

The audience chant and clap! The whole theatre rocks as sex craved women scream back…

“WE DO!” …clap clap clap

“WE DO!” …clap clap clap

“WE DO!” …clap clap clap

She does!

Turning back to Charlotte, still bent over holding the vaulting horse with her bottom in the air, Samantha inserts the dildo slowly just into the opening of Charlotte’s dripping arsehole and moves it tantalisingly around the entrance to her ‘pleasure garden’.

This is the moment the oomp-pah band strikes up from the top gallery, Abigail stands, and holds her arms out, wiggling her fingers, the whole audience shouts louder than ever as a collective…..


..Builds up to the well known Inveigle ‘Rumpy Pumpy’ song! Submissives bend, arseholes are greased, dildos strapped on and lubricated, the whole theatre sinks into depravity and debauchery as the whole audience performs anal sex!

Chandeliers swing, dust falls in little rhythmic showers from the rafters, the whole building vibrates!

Abigail is in ecstasy as she conducts the performance, laughing loudly as she squeals…”Sodom and Gomorrah could not compete with this! What have I created!? Fuck them arses everyone….fuck them!”

A heaving mass of sex craved Victorian women thrust in unison to the song, to tune of the Hokey Cokey…

“ohhhh Rumpy Pumpy Pumpy!…Woooooh Rumpy Pumpy Pumpy…..ooooh Rumpy Pumpy Pumpy…that’s what it’s all about! You shove your dildo in, your dildo out, in out, in out, shake it all about, you do the Rumpy Pumpy and you turn around…..and then do it all again! ….ooooooohhhhh oh Rumpy Pumpy Pumpy!”… And on!

Then, as Samantha becomes more and more frantic for release, she grasps Charlotte’s hips and thrusts the leather dildo right up to its hilt into the moist slit. Charlotte’s eyes open wide and she gasps with pleasure. Samantha’s clit is rubbed by a protuberance, and she cums. Charlotte’s fingers frig her own clit, and she cums too!

Without further ado, both craving more orgasms, Samantha starts to fuck her hard, her own buttocks clenching and releasing as her body pumps backwards and forwards, slapping noisily into Charlotte’s luscious red buttocks which push back towards her. It doesn’t take long before Charlotte comes again, emitting a long, loud scream of orgasmic pleasure. The audience are wild with delight and leap to their feet to give a standing ovation.

Samantha withdraws from Charlotte and stands facing the audience, spreading her arms and bowing, the glistening leather dildo still held in her hand and pushed against her puss.

Eventually the applause dies down and Samantha says, “Thank you Ladies, thank you. Charlotte has now had her pleasure, I now need to achieve further pleasure….with a stranger! Who on the upper tier will be the lucky winner of the golden ticket and come to my room to see me.

Eleanor walks onto the stage again and holds her hat out to a panting, heaving breasted Samantha. She rests the hat, upturned on Charlotte’s lower back, who is still bent over the brass bar. She draws out a number and passed it over to Eleanor, who holds the ticket aloft and shouts the number out. ‘Two hundred and seventy six!’

The woman in the black mask hits the edge of her box with a riding crop in fury, stands up and storms out of the auditorium.

The lady in the winning seat puts her half-face masquerade mask up, and walks 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 walk onto the stage triumphantly. Samantha takes one of the women’s hands, whilst Charlotte takes the hand of the other lady’s. Then they all walked off through the curtains at the back of the stage, leaving Eleanor standing alone.

Eleanor cracks her whip loudly to stem the hubbub, and then requests that the audience all stand to sing the National Anthem, a tradition in every theatre in those days.

Outside the theatre, on hearing the noise and National Anthem, the coach men make ready.

Once the singing stops, Eleanor makes her final announcement:

‘‘That, my dear Ladies, is the end of the show (a noticeable groan of disappointment can be heard from the audience). ‘Spanksalot’ for coming to see us! The Inveigle wishes you all a safe journey home. We can’t wait to see you all again soon. Goodnight to you all.’’

The audience cheers enthusiastically again and then stand up and start to leave.

Emma and Melanie stand, looking into each other’s eyes. They have both really enjoyed their evening, but know that they still have ‘unfinished business’ to attend to when they get home. Emma’s sore bottom needs some soothing cream applied to it, whilst Melanie has yet to have her own bottom thoroughly warmed over Emma’s knee. A brisk spanking will help to ignite the lust they both feel for each other again!

They joined the queue at the souvenir shop and purchased two more photos of the girls in their stage uniforms for their erotic album they were slowl building. A man called Mr.Trentham took the photos, and his fame was growing across the country.

A vintage ‘Trentham’ photograph of the real Charlotte, Samantha, Eleanour, Scarlet, and Victoria.
A popular game played on stage was a version of ‘Pass the Parcel’ where two teams of Inveigle Girls battled it out in school uniform for the ‘dunces hats’ each girl ending up with one would be soundly spanked by one without.
…a vintage ‘Trentham’ photograph.

They also purchased yet another of a row of ‘Inveigle Bottoms’…

A vintage ‘Trentham’ photograph of ‘Inveigle Bottoms’

Masquerade masks raised again, they walk hand in hand to the waiting row of cabs. They summon theirs. The man was ready and waiting, as always, and they climbed aboard. Inside they talked excitedly about the show and in particular about Charlotte and Samantha’s special act.

‘How do two such gorgeous young girls end up starring in a show like that?’

That’s a very good question. In the next chapter we’ll begin this story of love and spanking by addressing that very question.

After the audience had left the theatre, the proprietor of the Inveigle, Abigail sat in her private box feeling very satisfied with the evening’s performance. She was proud of all of her girls, especially her two star performers, Samantha and Charlotte. They had really excelled themselves.

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. As was her manner, she surveyed the scene of a satisfied audience with pride 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, the eyebrow raised, as she was scolded. Others had melted in her gaze of approval with both eyebrows holding the sultry eyes in their shadow.

She knew exactly what was needed at all times, and the girls knew it. Without question the house girls did her bidding, so too did the show girls. She loved them all like daughters. She would chastise and nurture them 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. The girls were her children, and, in both esteem and adoration, she was known by the girls as ‘Mummy Bear.’


All the girls wanted to wear Mummy Bear’s Special Collar
All the girls wanted to sit at the feet of Mummy Bear.
All the girls wanted to undress for Mummy Bear and display their bare bottom, before they got a lovely spanking from her.
All the girls wanted to be the one Mummy Bear would command to come to her heels….
All the girls would willingly submit to a spanking from Mummy Bear, for as long and hard as she wanted….with any implement.
On their Birthday a girl could be asked to stay the night with Mummy Bear.
…they would have a sumptuous supper.
Where she would then put them in bed and tell them a spanking story.
After she blew the light out, she would climb in. And give them a Birthday Orgasm.

Protection was in her mind at this very point in time as she screwed up the ticket with the seat number of the lady in the mask. She had removed it from the draw hat before Samantha had selected the winning ticket. She did not trust the lady in the mask. There was something evil about her. She was determined that she would never win a night of passion with her two treasured stars of the Inveigle stage.

Click here for chapter four…

The Friday Night Masturbation Club ~ Part Five

To see the rest, click here…


Fae, Amber and Sapphire were all well satisfied with their lovely orgasms, and their breathing slowing down to normal. Charlotte stopped turning the pages and reading as she watched the last of the post orgasmic, gentle rubbing. Almost in a trance.

“Right.” Said Sapphire. “You must be gagging for it! Get your knickers off Charlotte, we will do our best for you now.”

“Ohhhh yes please, just being watched by a group is enough for me, but yes please, a few naughty pictures and words to help would be lovely!”

And so naughty schoolgirl Charlotte, went to the front. Sapphire and Amber sat with the book and Fae stood guard at the door, because they knew that night class people were starting to arrive.

Charlotte began to wriggle out of her knickers and skirt, even the girls watching her do that was a very sexy thrill, and she could not help but exaggerate her hip and bottom movements.

Sapphire spoke dirty to her, she knew exactly what Charlotte liked. “Open your legs you dirty bitch, show us your cunt and finger it for us. You are such a naughty, naughty, NAUGHTY GIRL Charlotte. You know what you need don’t you?”

“Oh I am! I AM A NAUGHTY GIRL! I need a spanking really! Don’t I?”

She opened her legs wide, feeling the sticky wet lips stretch and separate.

It’s funny really, how Charlotte the naughty schoolgirl fantasises about being spanked, and asks her friend to use the word as she masturbates knickerless before the. Because…just down the corridor the strict Miss Black, the hardest Spanker in school, was just putting things away and tidying her desk. In an hour or so, she would have to do the talk before the archaeological class. She decided to take a walk around the corridors of her school, just to look at things and keep the cleaners on their toes.

More soon…


Inveigle ~ Chapter One ~ Saturday Night at the Inveigle

To read the Introduction and the history of female/female spanking houses, click here…

Victorian England 1887

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

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

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

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

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

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

Abigail, The Proprietor of the Inveigle

She also rules the house with a ‘rod of iron’ or to be more precise, with a birch, spanking paddle or cane amongst many other correctional implements in her possession.

A vintage ‘Trentham” photograph showing Abigail Hayes with the ‘Inveigle Girls’

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

The infamous ‘Inveigle Girls’ on parade.

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

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

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

The mysterious lady with the black mask

The two Ladies settle into their seats, which are red and velvety, and soft to the bottom. Most of the decor seems to be red, brass and mahogany furnishings. Gas lamps, turned to ‘half’, hiss gently. Everywhere looks clean, well kept and lovingly cared for. Slowly the theatre fills. As always every seat is taken. Their minds gently contemplate all the delightful bottoms sinking into the soft velvety seats. How many have been spanked today and are glad of the soft hugging velvet? How many will be spanked tonight? The thought of a whole theatre filled with women who worship the female bottom makes them almost drip with vaginal lubricant. Conversations fill the air, and they catch the odd words and phrases … ‘‘spanked… very naughty maid…on the bare bottom…..thrashed over my knee….publicly whipped with a birch tied to a spanking horse…’’, and so on.

The two young ladies in the audience

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

Rat a tat- tat!

Everyone sits up with a start!

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

Excitement mounts.

The stage is semi-circular, a little like a circus, but raised about two feet. It intentionally comes to within easy touching distance of the expensive front row seats. Twice a year, for birthdays, the ladies in question both treat each other to two of these treasured seats.

The same girls in black and white walk to the stage and, with their tapers, light the seashell-shaped footlights which run all along its outer edge. This has to be done in Inveigle style, straight legs, bottoms up, with one finger touched to the lips. One by one, from left to right, the lime lamps ‘pop’ into life. Lucy, sitting nervously underneath the stage, lets out her usual sigh of relief, as all are lit safely.

An element of danger always accompanies this delicate task as the lime lights at the start of the show could have foot high flames! The reflective shell covers cast a bright white light on the showgirls, which make them look magnificent. The girl has the job of controlling the flames throughout the night, a scary and demanding job. If it were to go wrong, the consequences would be a public spanking on the stage on a special brightly illuminated set. The spanking would be administered by Eleanor, the Inveigle’s ‘Mistress of Ceremonies’, and she really knew how to give a sound spanking. Many an ‘Inveigle Girl’ has felt the wrath of Abigail on the stage, much to the audience’s delight, but Eleanor came a very close second in accuracy and strength.

Eleanor about to deliver a public caning on stage

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

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

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

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

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

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

Young Scarlet, an accomplished violinist and singer

She starts playing her violin, as the girls standing each side of her begin to sing a favourite song of the audience. The song is magnificent and fits the prevailing mood:

“Some of them want to spank you,
Some of them want to be spanked by you,
Some of them want to abuse you,
Some of them want to be abused by you!”

The Chorus Girls accompany her. To the left are the submissive girls, known in spanking society as ‘bottoms’. All have a red feather in their hair. To the right are the dominant girls, known as ‘tops’. They all wear a black top hat.

The ‘bottoms’ sing one line, and then the ‘tops’ sing the next. It’s the traditional start of Saturday nights at The Inveigle.

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

One of the Ladies in the audience bends over and her friend spanks her. Her bottom is shapely and admired. It is obvious that she loves it to be seen and appreciated. To the beat of the drum she wiggles it from side to side, and is tempted to lift her skirts. How bold they become when they visit ‘The Inveigle’! So up her skirts come, and down slide her bloomers. Her friend’s hands slide slowly down to her pussy. Nobody seems to mind at all.

The music stops, the clapping fades. Scarlet walks to the left of the stage. People sit down slowly. So does the girl with her bloomers hanging around her knees. Her friend holds her dark, curly, bushy little triangle as if it was a small bird in her hand, with her middle finger tucked into the warm wet slit. The girl thrusts against it in time to the drum beat, a look of enormous dreamy pleasure on her face.

In a dressing room not far from the stage, Eleanor, the Mistress of Ceremonies awaits for her cue. She looks at herself in the mirror and tugs on the lapel of her outfit. No matter how many Saturday nights she walks from her room to the stage, she feels an attack of the nerves. ‘Come on girl! They love you!’ She listened to the music and for the signal hidden in the tune, and then sets off.

Magnificent Eleanor, dressed in a ring-master’s suit of sorts, walks determinedly onto the stage. She cracks her whip and immediately silence follows. Speaking in an accent which has a hint of French, she welcomes the audience.

Magnificent Eleanor

“Ladieeeees and… More ladies!” She shouts!

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

“Welcome to the seducing.”

The whole audience calls out “Oooooooooooh!”

“The beguiling!”

“Oooooooooooooooooo oooooh!”

“The sensational!”


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

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

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

She cracks the whip again.

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

She stares at the woman and walks towards her, standing in front of the seated woman For what seems like several minutes, but in actual fact is only four or five seconds, Eleanor stands before the woman, smiling, and not saying a word. The woman is visibly excited and twitches, adjusting her position in her seat.

In a smooth seductive voice Eleanor looks to the woman and replies to her shouted comment. Her voice is clear and it takes little effort to make it heard to the front rows,

“If you wish me to, I will be more than happy to oblige you Madam.”

Almost immediately an image of what she hopes will come flashes through the woman’s mind. An image so accurate in its prediction, that you wouldn’t believe it. The woman sits down meekly as the Mistress of Ceremonies passes her a card with a room number on it. The girl blushes and the audience make very suggestive comments and noises. They all know that after the show she will be up in the Mistress’s room, getting what she craves, namely a crimson and well-striped sore arse!

Eleanor reaches for her whip, as her devotee bares her arse for a sound whipping. Hot red stripes will undoubtedly be painted across her luscious writhing cheeks! Eleanor never disappoints!

Eleanor turns away smiling wickedly, and walks to the centre of the stage. She then spins to face the audience and says, “Don’t forget I like a turn too sometimes!” Then turning her back to the audience again, she stoops dramatically and thrusts her bottom towards them.

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

The ‘Radetzky March’ bursts from the orchestra pit and the girls in black and white step back to the edge of the ring, alternate tops and bottoms, ready to show the audience when to clap. They start off with wiggling their bottoms to the audience, and then part like a curtain to let the ‘ponies’ trot in. This is the perfect music for spanking.

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

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

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

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

When the music pauses, the girls stop. Whoever is standing before Felicity and Amber has to bend over, grasp their hands behind bent knees and take a sound spanking in time to the claps! Imagine the scene as Felicity and Amber hold up the tail of each pony, smile at each other, and then simultaneously raise their hands high and deliver resounding slaps to the bent over bottoms…smack, smack, smack, smack, SMACK!

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

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

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

At the end, they bend over, facing away from the audience. The music goes quieter, and quieter, the girls marking time by alternate bending of each knee that make their lovely rosey cheeks role from side to side in a most provocative, mesmerising and erotic manner. Finally the music stops altogether and their rolling motion stills. It’s time for the spanking prize draw.

Eleanor returns to the stage. Amber, holding Felicity’s bowler hat, draws out seat numbers, passing the tickets one by one to Eleanor who shouts out the numbers which correspond to seat numbers in the auditorium. The ‘lucky seat’ winners run to the stage to pick up their favourite spanking implement from a large assortment on a table: leather straps, wooden paddles, riding crops, martinets, slim birch rods and canes. They all stand to the right of their allotted girl and the music stops.

Eleanor takes another big breath. “Are you ready Ladies? Let the music restart and the spankings commence.” She starts to clap as the music picks up again and she shouts out to the bent over company of young ladies, “Bottoms up girls! Make sure that you present them well!”

To the sounds of the can-can tune the girls all get a brisk spanking with the selected implements. Loud smacking, swishing and thwacking noises mingle with loud howls and squeals from the girls, whilst rapidly reddening and bestriped bottoms wriggle and squirm in a vain attempt to avoid the painful attentions of their enthusiastic spankers. It’s a wonderful spectacle… a real ‘spanking frenzy’, a ‘spanking orgy’!

A Saturday Night at The Inveigle

Finally the music fades and the spankings cease. The spankers stand breathing heavily with flushed faces from all the excitement, whilst the spankees stand up with their thoroughly reddened bottoms. Each spanker is given a tub of cream to rub into their spankee’s cheeks, accompanied by a violin version of ‘Toselli’s Serenade’, performed by Scarlet. She is still naked and is now standing close to the front row, facing the audience.

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

Here is another of Mr.Trenthams vintage photographs taken on the corridors of the Inveigle.

Abigail encouraged the girls to be wanton. The Inveigle was an escape from normal life, if two lovers wanted to finger each other, than why not? On the stairs, it the theatre…anywhere.

Mr Trentham was one of the first photographers in Whitechapel. He had a studio, and a shop.

Most of of his works were of The Inveigle Girls and Inveigle Customers (if they granted permission). He had free range to go anywhere he wanted, in the Inveigle. You will meet him later. All the photos you see were for sale in his shop…”Trentham’s Emporium”

Abigail studies the crowd at this stage with her opera glasses. When she is satisfied that most have done, she gives a discrete signal to Eleanor. She knows a few will not have finished, and loves to get one in focus and watch their torment as they try to finish themselves quickly.

In their pairs, the spanking partners leave the stage. Scarlet, turns and bows her bottom to the audience, receiving a resounding smack from a lady sitting in the front row, and then leaves.

It is now time for the interval before the stars of the show take centre stage, Charlotte and Samantha.

Tonight is a special act, which they perform only once every three months because of its severity. It is something they love, and if Charlotte’s bottom allowed, they would do it more often. They always have two weeks off from the shows afterwards for bruising to fade. This is one of the reasons the shows are only fortnightly.

The interval is for nearly an hour and a half. The show begins early, and lasts a long time. People go to the spanking booths or to the bars. A night at the Inveigle is quite a spectacular spanking evening….and very raucous!

Click here to see what happens during the interval…CHAPTER TWO



















You might like this, it is a taste of Lady Jacqueline’s Dungeon, click here…

And this, a photo set of Abigail…


There are 18 chapters,all finished, revised and edited. All being added here. I am now taking photos.

This is a massive undertaking, be patient.


Three Naughty Sisters ~ Part Five

To see the rest, click here…


Mummy has had a problem since the last spanking you read about. With her bannister rail, to be precise. She has noticed that over the past few weeks it is sometimes slippy, sometimes sticky, and always in the same little area. It is a mystery.

She has looked up….definitely nothing dripping.

She has inspected the paint….but whenever she wipes it vigourously she finds that the paint is perfectly sound.

The other day she asked her three girls, Samantha, Charlotte and Stephanie, “Is one of you messing about with hair gel or hand sanitiser or something on the stairs?”

All shook their head negatively. And so, it remains a mystery…until now.

Charlotte and Stephanie have been playing badminton on the lawn, Mummy has been sat in a deck chair pretending to be the umpire. A perfect Sunday afternoon family scene.

“Where is Samantha? She is very quiet. Just go and check on her and see if she is okay, you know how she can sulk about nothing sometimes. She might be sat feeling miserable. And well done on playing so nicely…good girls.” Says a happy Mummy.

Stephanie and Charlotte, feeling very proud come into the house.

In the hallway, they hear a bang…then another..and loud shuffling noises. “Bloody hell, what’s that?”

Samantha heard them coming and hurriedly climbs off the bannister rail! She has found that if she straddles it, and grips on by her hands and legs, she can bob up and down quickly to an orgasm. Knowing that her Mummy cannot figure out the sticky, or slippy section on the rail, makes it more naughty and exciting….so in a noisy, bundling, and clattering, very close to orgasm, she climbs off quickly!

Bobbing her wet pussy up and down, grinding her swollen lips on the rail, Samantha does not want to stop masturbating…she moves away, then the urge to cum makes her move back on to rub her wet pussy again!

That was her downfall. She could hear her sisters voices, yet her pussy was so close to having a stupendous orgasm, that she got back on for a few last rubs…it was soooo nice! Then the door to the hallway opened, and she jumped off.

Jumping up, having to leave her orgasm hanging in the air, a tormented Samantha bangs her knee, on the bannister rail.

As the girls come though, they hear Samantha…”Owwww, oooooh that hurt!”

“Are you alright Samantha?” Asks Charlotte.

Frustrated at not having her orgasm. In pain, and annoyed at being caught and stopping, her temper rose. “Of course I am not bloody alright you idiot!”

“She was only asking!” Defends Stephanie.

“God you are bossy at times. Ohhhhh I see, you! It’s you! You rub your twopence on here don’t you, that why it’s sticky or slippy!”

“Yes, I was almost going to cum just now!”

Samantha had a shock then.

“You have just been nasty to me!” Grinned Charlotte…..”Mummy! MUMMY!!! Come and see what naughty Samantha has been doing whilst we were being so good for you!”

Mummy storms in…”What!?”

“She says if she rubs her naughty bits on the bannister, it feels ever so nice and when she’s done all this liquid gushes out…that is what makes the bannister all slippy or sticky!” Says Stephanie, joining in the fun.

“You naughty, dirty girl, how dare you do that on my bannister…you can get back on! I’ll spank your bottom on it!”

Stephanie and Charlotte laughed and giggle as Samantha was spanked in this funny position…but best of all, the action of rubbing as she was spanked, made her cum before them all!

“Owww, ooooh, owww….mmmm…yes! Owww…oh fuck…oh yes, yes… Owww, OWWWWWOOOOOOoooooohmmmmmmmm!”

“You naughty girl! Get to bed, right now! You will have no tea! Come on you two, you have been very good, I will give you Charlotte’s share of the lovely strawberries and cream!”

Samantha ran upstairs crying, and Charlotte and Samantha went for their strawberries.

Talking of upstairs….come back soon, there is some excitement up there!


p.s. I hope you realised that the blurred photos up there were to make it look like Samantha was bobbing about masturbating.

Birds of Feather, flock together…

In this instance, Robins. Not red breasted, like the traditional ones, but red rumped!


Well…you already know of Robin, my dear friend and spanking wood carver extraordinaire! See here…

Now there is another one, a young lady I know, through my blog. Her name is Robyn….not unusual….but you will not believe this, her surname is Jones.

Here is her beautiful bottom….yes, she has given me permission to show her bottom to you all. You must message me Robyn, and tell me, how does that feel?

Robyn Jones…and ‘The Inveigle’.

‘In the process of revising and refining my story about The Inveigle, I am indebted to a young lady who goes under the name of ‘Miss Robyn Ann Jones’. Although she is not one of my relations, she clearly has inherited my spanking genes! Being of lesbian orientation she loved a spanking story almost entirely devoted to the spanking of female bottoms. She is also an avid reader of vintage erotica, much of which contains flagellation. She loves dressing up in vintage costumes and has an extensive collection of vintage underwear, including a few Victorian crotchless split drawers, which I am a great fan as you know!

It was the lesbian and historical/period nature of the Inveigle story that strongly appealed to her, which led to her offering her services in helping me to refine and edit it.

She informs me that in her own private relationships with other young women, she usually enjoys playing a dominant rather than a submissive role. She loves nothing better than thrashing a willing playmate’s bare bottom with a cane. However, she assures me that she fully understands what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a cane as she occasionally submits herself to dominant women to keep her ‘on her toes’. I have never met Robyn, although I would love to meet her some day. I haven’t any idea what she looks like. I’ve never seen any photos of her, apart from the one which she sent me a while ago holding a cane across her delightfully round bottom, which you can see above.’

A note on the Inveigle…

Click on the link below…

WHAT YOU WILL FIND FOR NOW, IS THE UNREVISED VERSION, however, I am happy to say that Robyn has now revised the story and it is a beautiful job she has done. We are now in the process of adding more photos.

So please be patient…not long to wait now.


The Astonishing Guests of Roue

I think we have all heard of the early spanking Magazine ‘Roue’.

Roue magazine, once described as the Rolls Royce of spanking magazines, established an international reputation for style and content. The 1970s and 80s, often described as the Golden era of the spanking magazine had a queen….’Roue’ the forerunner of all the spanking magazine formats we used to love before the Internet took over. A much loved, fondly remembered treasure.

It used to invite the public to submit pieces of spanking art and publish them. Quite possibly some of the great spanking artists were spotted there.

Here is a selection…unknown artists, but excellent.

Some styles look very familiar don’t they? Who knows whose early work is here…