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.
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.
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 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 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.
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.
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.
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!”
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.
“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 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 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’!
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!
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
THE STORY IS QUITE WELL ILLUSTRATED TO THIS POINT. I HAVE A LOT OF PHOTOS TO TAKE AND INSERT. BUT AT LEAST YOU CAN READ IT UP TO THE END TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS! BE PATIENT PLEASE.
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.