I will spend dome days uploading them like today, I have been adding more of story number 74….
Chapter 2: Miss Kenworthy, the ‘Head of Discipline
To see the rest, click on ‘Photo Stories’ and scroll down to story number 74
There had been a meeting of the ‘Board of Governors’ at Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls. The success of my methods here since we became an Academy of Correction, has made it almost full.
I can no longer manage just on my own, so I have asked for help with discipline. I still intend to carry on when I can, but what the school really needed was a full time disciplinarian. Let me tell you about our choice.
The meeting went well. They backed me completely and unanimously decided that a room was needed to be fitted out solely for discipline and a dedicated member of staff was urgently required to run it… a ‘no-nonsense’ expert in the art of corporal punishment. We had lots of applicants and Interviews were held over the summer holidays. I feel that we made an excellent choice, hiring a young lady named Miss Tamara Kenworthy.
And so it was that, on the first day of the new term, if you walked down the corridor to the reception and looked at the staff notice board, you would see a new photo had been added.
…it was just below the photos of Head and Deputy Head, in a line of Senior Staff and Heads of Department. You would see this photograph of Miss Kenworthy, with the title ‘Miss Kenworthy, Head of Discipline.
Quite an innocent looking photo of an attractive young woman approaching her prime. Tamara looked charming, and gentle.
There were a crowd of girls looking and chattering about the photo, when suddenly they all stopped as Miss Kenworthy clip-clopped her way towards them in her red high heels and black business suit. They parted like the Red Sea as she walked to the notice board and unlocked it. She took the photo out, and replaced it with the one below. It showed her holding a black, harsh looking punishment stick. It was not a cane, but something altogether more sinister!
I was watching from the balcony which ran around the reception quadrangle, just outside my office…the Headmaster’s Office. I nodded in satisfaction at her first dramatic move in the ‘Game of Discipline’ that she had begun. We had chosen well.
The new photograph was better and conveyed the correct image, that of a no-nonsense, strict disciplinarian, who knew how to wield a cane, a tawse and a plimsoll.
She clip-clopped her way back to whence she came, to a corridor that housed her ‘Room of Discipline’, with its new sign, ‘REPORT ROOM’. This was the name she had chosen for the room as most girls who visited it would be ‘on report’. The room now had two chairs outside, and a stack of six more inside just in case they were needed on special occasions. On the right-hand side of the door was a small stool, the ‘humiliation stool’, which would have to be polished by every girl who stood on it.
That little row of seats, and the stool had picked up a new name from the clever, witty, but very naughty girls of this Correctional Institute. From this day on it was referred to as…’Death Row’. In the first week of its existence, some unknown girl stuck a piece of paper on the door on which was scrawled ‘Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.’ Something straight out of ‘Dante’s Inferno’! Tamara removed it and had it framed. She kept it at home, a keepsake she would value forever, along with many others.
I asked her to come and see me after her appointment. I gave her a budget to spend and a list of suppliers. She spent her time up until today, the day of the photo, setting up her room. I gave her complete freedom as it was her domain. She moved some desks in for girls who had lines or essays to write, and an array of implements and apparatus.
Her first act was to go to one of our trusted cane suppliers, which was in a town just a few miles away. Here she handled the canes to get a feel for them and ordered two dozen of various lengths and diameters. Over the years to come she would make great friends with a Miss Alexander, who as you can see here, made excellent canes. On many occasions, she was only too happy to let Miss Kenworthy ‘try them out’ on her. After all, good customers must be kept happy!
Slowly but surely her equipment came, including a thick, hard backed, leather bound punishment book.
Much of her time was spent alone as it was still the summer holidays and the teaching staff hadn’t yet arrived back at school. She arranged the room to suit her needs.
All alone, with the school quiet, she inspected her corporal punishment equipment
The flexibility of the canes were perfect, and she began to have thoughts of making them wrap around the curves of a naked girl’s buttocks.
The room smelled beautifully. It had a new carpet and the wood had been freshly bees-waxed by the caretaker. The radiators ticked, because the same caretaker had sent a memo to her saying that he needed to test the heating system. It was a rainy day, and, for summer, quite cool. The noise of the rain rattling on the window panes made her feel glad to be in her cosy room. She locked the door and slowly walked around, caressing the desks with her long, slender fingers. She imagined the cool shock of the wood on a naked schoolgirl’s belly as she was draped over them, bare bottom presented, with her knickers around her ankles.
She just loved everything about spanking.
Her thoughts developed into a little fantasy, a masturbation fantasy. She began to breathe deeply as she rubbed her groin against the edge of a desk rhythmically. She straightened and her hands ran up her hips. Gripping the hem of her skirt, she slowly dragged it up to reveal her delightful, see-through black knickers….
…which she then pulled down. The cool air caressed her bottom.
She pulled her cheeks apart, and the cool air drifted into the hole of her bottom and made her take a sharp intake of breath as she realized how wet she was becoming.
She christened her room of discipline and shame by self-spanking her beautifully curved bottom. As she hoped, the room had near perfect acoustics. The crisp sound of the smacks filled the air. She closed her eyes and her mind drifted back to her own school spankings. She recalled how she had hoped that one day she would be delivering rattan to bare bottoms, as the teacher was delivering it to hers.
And now, here she was being paid to spank and cane. How absolutely wonderful, a dream come true!
She saw herself, in school uniform, yet at the age she was now. In her mind she was an adult schoolgirl, in black and white, like the images she searched for on-line to aid her masturbation. The knickers she pulled down were not hers. They were her old white school knickers.
She spoke to herself…
”Bare your bottom for a spanking, Tamara, you naughty girl!”
She could see her reflection in the window and looked at herself, as she made a mental note to open the blinds to humiliate a girl. Nobody was around to see today, so she continued to look into her reflected eyes.
“Present your bottom Tamara!”
Then she began to spank herself harder…
And faster and faster…
Then she leaned back and fingered her wet slit to orgasm.
She came hard and loud, not holding back, safe and sound in the knowledge that she was perfectly safe to do as she wished in her room…her beautiful room of pain and punishment.
The next few days saw her trying out various pieces of apparatus to punish the girls over. It also saw her go to a local shopping mall to buy a school uniform similar to what she wore in her masturbation fantasy. She wanted to know how it felt and how high gym-slips would ride up. She thought naughtily, behind her locked door, that she could dress up whenever she liked to fulfill her private ‘naughty schoolgirl’ fantasies.
And so it was that Miss Kenworthy began to test out her equipment, with her hair in a ponytail like she wore at school and wearing a gymslip. It was a little short, but she loved it. Most girls at the school wore short ones anyway. She wanted to look like the girls she would punish.
She put two of the chairs from her stack back-to-back, which was how pupils at Winchester School were punished. To this day the position is called the ‘Winchester Position’.
She stood before them, imagining how they would feel when she ordered them to kneel and bend over them.
‘‘Knees and palms must remain on the chairs at all times,’’ she said out loud as she climbed on.
“Hmmmm, I like it but the bottom should be forced up more, maybe the elbows resting on the seat.” She said to herself.
“Present your bottom higher girl!” she said to herself sternly, and giggled.
“Oh, that is much better!”
She had been shopping in all sorts of places and could not resist a little wooden rocking horse.
“This will humiliate the older ones when I tell them to get on it and rock like a little girl, whilst I crop their naughty bottoms!”
She put the chairs away, and climbed upon the little horse, which she decided to call ‘Neddy, the Punishment Pony’.
She placed her palms and toes on the base and rocked.
“I think this could work very well indeed,” she said to herself. “Once rocking I could pick up the rhythm, whack their bottoms as they rock backwards and then WHACK!, send them forwards again! Oooooh imagine one of those haughty ‘know it all’ types sat astride this, especially before a group of other girls!”
She had mounted a real saddle on the little horse and as she rocked back and forth it excited her. She pressed down hard and galloped to orgasm.
“I can see some submissive types rather liking this!” she gasped.
Also, as she moved, she discovered that her knickers had caught on the saddle.
“Oh I say! What a lucky accident! I will use that to hold their knickers down.”
She galloped to a second orgasm. She was so wet now that as she slowly rocked to a standstill, the draught created by the movement, blew cool on her sopping wet cunt…
“Oooooh, that’s nice!” As she climbed off her love juice stuck slightly, and she looked at it stretching between the saddle and her swollen labia.
Miss Kenworthy decided not to wipe it off. In fact she decided there and then never to wipe any off. How satisfying it would be to rub her cunt to orgasm now and then on a saddle, stained with the pussy juice of young virgins!
Tamara watched it run in a trickle and dry.
The next thing she tried was something her Grandma had left her. An old towel/clothes drying rack. She liked a girl to have something to grip onto whilst she was spanked.
“Oh my! I think this will present the bottom well for a caning!”
She bent over and gripped a rail.
“Oh yes Tamara, a few will wet their knickers over this before their knickers are unceremoniously yanked down!”
She told herself to get on tip-toe.
“Oh my word, what a position. Ooooh, just imagine waiting for that first whack, trembling and your bum hole twitching away in fear!” she thought.
“Present your naughty bottom for twelve of the very, very best young lady!” she said to herself.
She tensed the muscles around her anus to make it twitch as if in fear. “Oh I hope I get some doing this!”
Then she pulled out a piano stool which she thought would be perfect for the kiss of a tawse. She had two, one broad supple one and one thick, inflexible strap.
“God I am going to make some of you squeal and beg for mercy using this!”
“Oh wow! If they try to grip their scorching cheeks, they’ll drop over! Same if they try to resist a blow… ‘Ohhhhh Miss Kenworthy!’ You could bring blisters to a fine upturned rump on here!”
Her bottom had never been presented so well. She could feel the lips on her pussy open as she was so stretched!
Over the next few days she tried out most of her apparatus. She also investigated various places in the room where a miscreant could simply bend over and touch their toes, so that she could stand for maximum swing.
She loved just bending over. She excited herself and her quivering quim time and time again, often giving herself a spanking and blushing cheeks.
The first day of term was approaching, she was getting excited, in more ways than one.
However, something alluded her. She needed the ultimate way of shaming and humiliating a girl. It wasn’t until the Friday before the new term when she found it… a large mirror. To be known as ‘The Mirror of Shame’, she would punish girls before it so that they could see themselves ‘get it’ and, afterwards, stand before it as she wrote a record of their punishment in her ‘book of shame’, the punishment record of ‘The Report Room’.
She placed it next to her store room, a simplistic minimalist place for the ultimate punishment and shame.
The first day of term arrived, and she got in to school early, dressed in her favorite red and black.
Everything was in place, as she caressed her implements.
Within days a steady stream of naughty bottoms found their way to her ‘Report Room’ to be dealt with. She was both surprised and excited at how quickly her punishment book was filling up.
By the end of the first week she was on the third page, as girl after girl came nervously to her door with a report card, and sat on the two chairs outside…
Waiting to be punished…
Tamara was in punishment heaven, bottom after bottom came through the door, to be bent over in any way she wished, to be punished by whatever implement she liked. How many girls she deterred she never would know, but one thing for certain was that, like in all the other schools, most girls did not learn. The queue for punishment just kept the same, day after glorious day.
The two girls we saw just now, had to come back three days later. Again no mercy was shown, no matter how much they screamed and begged Miss Kenworthy to stop caning them on their already tender bottoms. This was her way. If they needed to be punished, they were punished… simple!
Girls soon learned to fear Miss Kenworthy, and being told they were being put on report, meant something rather painful was inevitable.
Yet it has to be remembered that these girls were at the extreme end of naughtiness. They were the wayward girls of Saint Helena’s High School. They were sent here because other schools could not cope with them. So all of them were naughty to the core…cheeky and defiant, rude and full of bratty behavior. Many were petty criminals, sent straight from court. They were here to be sorted, taught how to behave and educated. Miss Tamara Kenworthy was at the ‘sorting-out’ end, paid to punish their naughty bottoms in a much more severe way than would happen in mainstream schools.
Her first week came to a very satisfactory end. She really loved it here!
Click here for Chapter 3…
All photos taken, all story written and edited, I am adding it bit by bit.
Samantha and Charlotte
The headmaster walked into the room, ignored the pristine buttocks presented by Charlotte, and inquired, “Samantha, why are you sitting?”
“You took so long to return, I got tired of standing,” the borderline belligerent Sam returned.
“Stand up, girl. I don’t want any red sit-spots on your bum if you have to take a turn across the punishment stool. I’m not used to justifying myself to students, but I was waiting for the elastic impressions of Charlotte’s knickers to disappear from her flesh. I want the only marks on her backside to be mine.”
Taken down a peg, Samantha stood and ran a self-conscious hand over her cool seat as the school administrator turned his attention to the prostrate pupil.
“Charlotte, you were caught cheating off Samantha’s test, but you’ve refused to say if Samantha was complicit in your wrongdoing…” He raised the cane in his right hand high and brought it down unerringly across the summit of Char’s buttocks. The girl gasped as her headmaster asked, “Your answer…?” Hearing only muffled whimpers, he gave her a harder stripe, perfectly parallel to the first. “I’m prepared to cane you all afternoon long to get to the truth, girl,” and raised the cane once more.
“I give!” the poor girl blubbered. “Samantha said that she wanted to help me with the test answers so I’d be indebted to her. She’s been crawling into my bed at night, trying to convince me to do nasty things with her.” The tearful Charlotte clearly thought that her confession would reprieve her from further stripes, so was surprised when the Mr. Jones administered four more wicked licks in rapid-fire succession. While Charlotte was still writhing in agony, Mr. Jones gave more instructions.
“Stand up, Charlotte, and go stand in the corner. I’m not through with you, but have more pressing matters to address.” He turned his stern gaze to the other blond, “Samantha, get those knickers down to your ankles and assume the position over the stool!”
As Sam complied, it became obvious that she was highly aroused. The gusset of her white knicks was besmeared with a copious amount of jism. Her fragrant arousal filled the small room with her musky scent. Far from feeling embarrassed, Samantha lay across the stool and flipped her plaid skirt up, then raised her plump orbs up, as if daring the headmaster to do his worst.
Not waiting for the indentations from her recently removed panties to fade, Mr. Jones got right to work.
Swish, Thwack! A bright red welt blossomed on her pale posterior, bisecting the deep crack at a perfect right angle. Instead of feeling chastened, the chastised girl seemed to feed off the pain.
“Did you knowingly reveal your test answers to Charlotte, Samantha?”
“Yes!” she answered with a slight smile curling the corners of her pretty mouth, and got two vicious stripes in return.
“And did you want a quid pro quo, a return of sexual favors for this cheating?”
Even though she was wincing in pain, Samantha defiantly answered, “Yes!” and got two more hard cane slashes for it.
“What did you want to do sexually with Charlotte in her dormitory bed?”
Sam didn’t answer right away, just wriggled her pert bottom seductively, so Mr. Jones set about loosening her tongue with more rapid-fire welts. After five more, Samantha raised her voice above the din to volunteer, “I just wanted to spank her, then make her lick up the results from between my pussy lips.”
This proved too much for the headmaster. “Charlotte, as I stated, your punishment is not complete. I’ll be dropping by your dormitory tonight to finish the job in front of your assembled roommates, as a lesson to all of you. Be freshly bathed and ready to receive me at 7:30 sharp. You are dismissed.” His voice no longer carried that controlled authority. The girl pulled up her knickers and raced from the room.
Even though Samantha’s fulsome cheeks were covered with bright welts, her engorged pussy just kept oozing viscous cream. Even though she’d just taken a harsh thrashing, she was still smiling like a Cheshire cat.
“Tell me, young lady, are you strictly lesbian… or do you know what to do with a hard cock?”
Sam kept smiling as her gaze dropped from Mr. Jones’ eyes to the bulge in his trousers. “Do you have a condom handy, sir?”
“Er… no… I… uh…”
Enjoying that their roles had just switched instantaneously, Sam smirked, “That’s okay, but I’m at my most fertile time in my cycle and am so turned-on right now, we better not put this in my pussy,” she whispered as she withdrew his cock from his pants. “Mind if I take matters in hand…?”
Mr. Jones feared that she meant that she was going to wank him off. He’d become smitten by this girl and craved more intimacy. But instead she licked the length of his shaft, spit on its head, twisted back over the stool and fingered some jism from her sex up the crack of her ass.
“I love it in the butt! Wanna do me where it’s dirty?”
He did. Samantha climaxed repeatedly from the rogering, making it all the more difficult for Mr. Jones to forestall his orgasm, as her rectum seemed to suck on him like another mouth.
“Tell me something, sir…”
“Yeah…” he grunted.
“After you cane Charlotte tonight in front of all us roommates… I imagine that it’s going to turn you on all over again… I know that it will me… well, do you think you could fuck my ass for me then, too…?”
The thought of it proved too much for the poor headmaster, and he unloaded, “Yes, Samantha! Yes, yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!”
Loved it Keiter’s, great erotic writing!
Chapter 6: The Girls flee for their lives
It was six in the morning, eight hours after the girls escaped, 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 about. On hearing the news anger swelled rapidly inside them. They both knew instantly that they now had an excuse to severely whip the girls. 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 have gone.
News spread fast throughout the mill and the servants. They felt fear for the two young girls and willed them to escape.
The girls started to become tired but still kept running, fueled by fear. They had kept to the road as much as they could. The surface was hard and wouldn’t show any signs of footprints. A couple of times they 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 for their capture. They felt very vulnerable. Their plan was to get to the town of the photographer, hide until dark, and 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. He was shouting, ‘‘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 would 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 Villagers had seen this before, and many were eager to feast their eyes on such spectacles again!
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 at 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 of which they could see in the distance coming towards them!
Lights came on in the shop and a young handsome man in his early thirties opened the door. Standing 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 were ushered into the back room.
Victoria soon put pay 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 girls were tucked up in a soft bed.
Obviously it would cost money to keep them hidden for 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 and 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. One night in particular became a fond treasured memory for both of them. They lay in bed, Charlotte on her back naked, and Samantha on her tummy, her face only inches away from her friend’s pussy. Her fingers stretched and toyed with Charlotte’s bottom as she adjusted her position.
An oil lamp was turned down low. Rain hit the windows, but 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 when we were still at the Mill 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. Charlotte smiled back, both their smiles could easily melt anyone’s heart.
‘‘Sorry, but do 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 my hand only, or maybe canes and paddles? How could I make your submission feel 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, whilst respecting your 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. Samantha turned onto her tummy, and bobbed up and down quickly on Charlotte’s fingers.
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. Kneel down in front of me on the floor and beg me to pleasure you!”
‘‘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 slapped hard across my bottom.’’
‘‘You learn quickly, don’t you?’’ chuckled Samantha.
‘‘I hope so Mistress, because if I don’t, then I expect to be caned or have your hairbrush whacked hard down across 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 Mistress’ knee. Her toes pushing 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 sub and Domme being spoken. It was a very erotic moment for them both.
‘‘I love the noise as you spank me.” SMACK! SMACK! “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 is wonderful and 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!”
Charlotte virtually screamed out her last request as her lover applied her hand robustly to her friends’ quivering bottom….SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Whilst she continued to spank Charlotte, Samantha started to describe her dominant feelings:
‘‘And I want to turn your bottom bright red…SMACK! SMACK! I want to see it move and wriggle…SMACK! SMACK! 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, never 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!’’ …..SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Together they gave and received the spanking, each enjoying their respective positions… ‘top’ and ‘bottom’!
Charlotte rapidly came to a massive climax across Samantha’s knee accompanied by the sound of spanks slapping her lovely bottom.
Afterwards they kissed and embraced, their love delving deeply into 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 free board and lodging, 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 after all 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 by saying ‘‘One day soon I will tell you of my adventures!”
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, all to be recorded on photographs. Some of the photographs were to find their way to London and into the hands of Victoria’s 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. Signed Photographs of her stars. 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.
Here are some Mr.Trentham originals…
The photographer had finished doing family portraits for the morning and 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. Or any combination, like two Dommes in masks! With one submissive! I’d love that!”
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 ones for Charlotte, black and white striped ones 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.
This was the phrase that inspired the ‘Trentham Colourscopes’ which became famous, and as you will find out later, played a vital role in the girl’s rise to fame and fortune.
‘‘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 exuded smouldering sexuality.
Samantha walked from behind the screen and the others fell silent at her aura. 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 her stocking top and knicker leg was stupefyingly 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, which we could use those.’’ Mr 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, as his cock was held firmly in his hand as he was hidden under the black sheet, covering himself and the camera.
The photo shoot produced a wonderful set of glass negatives encompassing a range of spanking implements and positions.
First Samantha spanked each girl over her knee with their skirts and petticoats raised, and their open back bloomers drawn back to expose their bare bottoms. She then made each girl bend over a table, still with their bottoms poking out provocatively through the back slit of their drawers, and thrashed each of them with a very swishy long thin cane. Finally she made them strip naked and had them stand close together facing each other. Taking a length of silk rope, she bound them tightly together around their waists and secured their arms above their heads to a rope dangling down from a roof beam. Samantha then took up a martinet whip and proceeded to circle them, flogging each girl’s exposed bottom and thighs in turn. They howled and begged for mercy at each stroke until Samantha finally relented and released them, commanding them to crawl and masturbate before her.
To finish she used the latest Victorian massager on them both, and what came to be known as a ‘dildo’. The final shots had them spreading her legs and licking her to orgasm.
The three girls handled and talked about the wonderful vibrating didlo afterwards, whilst Mr Trentham packed his expensive photographic equipment away.
(Many Victorian young women or even old spinsters had now come across these dildos. 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 were 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.)
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 as he also recognised the couple from the girls’ description of them.
The Doctor asked if Mr Trentham was ill, saying that he looked rather 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 days, and would most likely have more work for him if his work was satisfactory. With that they left the shop.
It was time for the girls to run again. This was far too much of a coincidence. The couple would almost certainly use a photographer in London, but not some small provincial one. Their suspicion that they had been discovered was correct. Only days after their escape, Lady Jacqueline had found one of the pieces of paper with this address on in their old room.
London was not that far away, and it seemed to beckon the girls. Mr. Trentham would still be able to produce photographs of them as he had a couple of London Studios he could use belonging to friends. Victoria told the girls of her own exciting place.
‘‘Let me take a set of these photographs when they are coloured and framed to someone I know. I think you 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 agreed that this visit from the Doctor and his Lady was very suspicious indeed and potentially very dangerous for the two girls. It was certainly time to put some distance between the girls and this locality. Both he and Victoria had talked of spending more time in the ‘big smoke’ and maybe they might do so now, especially now that the little group had bonded so well. It was imperative to get his new found stars away from here, although a recent account of a ghastly murder of a prostitute in London caused him some concern for the safety of the two girls.
He instructed the two girls to make sure that they were safely lodged. He would pay them an advance to cover the cost. He felt that it wouldn’t be long now before money started to fill their purses given what he had seen through his camera lens today!
And so a delightful respite came to an end. London beckoned. So did a delightful protective woman and ‘The Inveigle’.
Click here for chapter seven…
If you go to ‘Photo Stories’ and scroll down to number 26, (the Inveigle) and then scroll down to Chapter Five, you will see some poor girls who are kept in the darkness, Lady Jacqueline’s pale pets.
They are in black and white, I used Charlotte’s Red and Black Room of Pain and Pleasure to shoot them, here they are…in colour as well.
And one I did not use…
It’s just nice for you to see them in colour too isn’t it?
I think the facial expressions and movement in this artist’s work set him apart. Quite magnificent and even scary at times. The one with the big brutish man having the young girl dragged to him for a thrashing, by the governess sent a shiver down my spine!
Born 1878 in Vienna Died 1961 in Innsbruck, Austria
He was a very well-known landscape painter. Particularly popular were his views of Alpine villages and various locations in the former Austrian-Hungarian Empire. From 1946 to 1958 he was the president of the tyrolean artist’s society (Tiroler Künstlerschaft).
Besides watercolor landscapes and architecture paintings, Rudolf Preuss also did a number of spanking art drawings. His pairings included practically all: F/f, F/F, F/M, M/f, and M/F.
To see the rest, click here…
“Right, let’s get this over and done with! Bend over and place your palms flat on the chairs.”
I knew that at this stage fear of ‘what is to come’ is worse than knowing, so I put them out of their misery. “I am lifting your skirts and lowering your knickers to your ankles. You are both getting twenty apiece with my size thirteen plimsol! You have been very naughty girls indeed! What have you been?”
‘naughty girls Sir.’
‘naughty girls Sir.’
“Yes! And tell me, what do naughty girls get?” I said sternly and loud.
‘spanked sore bottoms Mr.Jones’
‘spanked sore bottoms Mr.Jones’
“Yes…indeed they do!”
I proceeded to do what I had told them.
I picked up the said size thirteen plimsol and slowly walked around looking at my targets, the floorboards in my office creak loudly. The clock ticked like a blacksmiths hammer, I could plainly hear their nervous breathing.
“Which one first?” I asked myself.
I rested on the end of my vaulting horse, to decide upon the matter. Neither seemed dramatically scared to be honest, I would have done the most nervous first. I looked at my stout senior cane, it pointed between them. So I let it decide, I would do them together, from left to right.
I moved to my left. What a glorious sight their fine upturned flanks presented to me. Two pair of buttocks almost begging to be thwacked without mercy.
The wait tried Samantha’s patience! She turned…
“You insolent girl how dare you turn around after I have put you in position!! Eyes to the front damn you! And keep them there!”
I moved in and decided to start with her. “An extra four for you my girl, before we start!”
My word! Let me tell you dear reader, she paid for that insolence in fine style, She had the first four quickly and with full force! No mercy at all!!
To be honest, it thrilled me and my manhood stood to attention like a sergeant major! As I stared at her bottom, my eyes drifted to their pussies. Both were moist and dribbling freely. I had a mind to whip it out and fuck them there and then! I could imagine them turning around and begging me to ram it in hard, a few strokes at a time in each, changing from one to the other repeatedly, then at my climax I would finish by hand spurting all over those plump rumps!
But of course, that was pure fantasy. I delivered a good bottom blistering spanking to each!
Samantha and Charlotte
“It’s better to go last, isn’t it?” said Samantha to herself unconvincingly as she looked at her friend Charlotte bent over the punishment stool waiting for Mr Jones to take the senior cane to her bottom. “Much better, surely? His arm will be tired after twelve strokes, won’t it? Or maybe he’ll have got his eye in by then. Oh dear, perhaps I should have gone first. Got it over with.”
“Why oh why did we buy those cigarettes? It’s all so stupid. So unnecessary. Just to feel grown up. And now look. A completely bare bottom in front of Mr Jones. A man. It’s so embarrassing. I mean, it’s not just your bottom he can see, is it? It’s … that place. A place only girls should see. A place only girls should touch.”
“He’s looking now, I can tell. Stra ight at Charlotte’s bottom and … everything else. It’ll be me he’s looking at next. I can’t bear it!”
Charlotte squealed pitifully as the heavy cane began to slice repeatedly into her bare flesh with a series of solid ‘thwacks’.
“Oh God, he’s doing it hard today,” thought Samantha. “We’ll have those horrible marks. And there’s P.E. and swimming this afternoon. The other girls will know. They’ll stare at us and snigger. I hate them already….Hate, hate, hate!
Note from Asa…
I think this is beautiful, like being taken into the mind of a naughty schoolgirl, regretting her actions, and fearful of what is to come. She captures it all. Great writing!
Found a rather strange set from Germany, 1928. The man in his plus-fours seems to be in charge, women help and join in!
They have been coloured, as often happens. People could buy pens to do it. I have the same set in sepia, but these make a nice change…
There are 17 of them and Can be found here…
Why not stay a while and browse my many vintage spanking sections, there are thousands of photos.
It is all written and photos taken, but it is a huge job, be patient. Been updating Charlotte’s story today…