This is the conclusion of the domestic transformation of Sylvia. To catch it from the start go here.
Michael Trench was surprisingly nervous about introducing his girlfriend Claire to his circle. He had told her of course, all about the lifestyle and she had been fascinated. But it was one thing to have a salacious conversation over dinner and quite another to be confronted with the reality. After all Claire Summer was a sensitive woman of 22 and not what one would call worldly.
Claire for her part had been excited all week about meeting Michael’s friends. She had already briefly met the Peters in London, a nice couple. Gerald Peters had been deliciously toppy she had thought and Sylvia was beautiful.
Her only concern was that she might not be pretty enough. She was hardly trophy material and despite the best products she could afford her non-descript very dark-blondish hair hardly cut a dash, not even with highlights. Even her eyes were muddy grey rather than blue, and she had always thought that they were too widely spaced, which although some said made her look girlishly friendly it was hardly sexy in her view.
As for her bottom, it was way too big. Nothing she wore was good enough to suit and yet the damn thing did insist in following her around.
“You have a gorgeous bubble bottom,” Michael always told her, but what did he know?
“I gather bottoms are they main thing in your society?” she had tried to make light of it.
He hated the reference to ‘your society’ as if she were a tourist. Hadn’t he spanked her often enough in the bedroom?
“You are up for this aren’t you? I mean we don’t have to do the scene thing…” he asked her for the 19th or 20th time. “Not that it is a scene thing, not really, but…”
Claire blushed, she very much was and in fact she had not been able to think of anything else for weeks. And when Michael had explained that domestic discipline and spanking was more than a game for him she had melted into a puddle. Not that she told him that.
“I can see why you are hesitant,” she had told him, “It is all rather unfashionable. But I don’t mind really I don’t. I have always quite liked the idea of love, honour and obey and all that. It is so romantic.”
Michael remembered the conversation well. But she was a city lawyer who earned as much and, if he was honest, probably more than he did. Besides he was hardly Gerald Peters. He had at least had the confidence and courage to discuss this with his friend Gerald and had told him that.
“Listen Mike, I am hardly ‘Gerald Peters,’ myself, not as you mean,” Gerald had said, “You think I came out of a factory somewhere knowing all the answers. It is a pose and takes years of experience. We all start somewhere.”
“But I am not sure Claire really understands…”
“You told her? You have a spanking relationship?” Gerald had cut him off.
Michael had nodded thoughtfully.
“Believe me, if she is coming then she is on board. Much more on board than Sylvia was at this point in our relationship I would say.” Gerald had been emphatic.
*
The Hunt Ball was in full swing and the county notables had assembled at Hamley Hall for the festivities. The grand old house must have seen many such occasions, but it was somewhat amusing to Sylvia that the majority of the attendees did not hunt and never had. Well not foxes anyway.
Sylvia knew that during the summer some girls were stripped and outlandishly attired to be sent off with a ‘posse of the perverted,’ as Samantha Willoughby-Gates described it. It was that kind of set and already one or two of the unassigned girls had been spanked. Sylvia had no idea if they had done anything wrong or if they had been hired to set a tone and disarm any newbies, well like her, she supposed. Although she earnestly hoped that Gerald would have no cause to give her a public spanking. But if he did then she would suffer it as she deserved for that was the way of things now between them. Sylvia found the thought strangely thrilling.
Things had settled down between Gerald and Sylvia, and Mary and Drake come to that. If you counted Mary and Drake as an audience then Sylvia had already suffered her first public spanking and had survived. Now she felt truly one of the girls.
“Have you thought about pony training?” someone asked her.
“What was that?” Sylvia broke into her train of thought and turned around.
Elisabeth Strident was one of Gerald’s closest friends and was fast becoming one of hers. It had been Elisabeth who had guided her through her first such gathering.
“Oh I heard you were looking to expand your repertoire with some instruction and pony training is so much less stressful than being a fox girl,” Elisabeth said cheerfully.
“I wasn’t thinking of being either,” Sylvia laughed.
“No, but you did want to learn something more hard core I heard, that’s what Mr Drake told me. Oh don’t worry, he was discreet, but approached me for some ideas,” Elisabeth whispered.
Sylvia lowered her voice, “I was thinking of something more akin to what Mary went through.”
“That is pretty hard core then, but… perhaps you should consider something rather less full-on until you find your feet. Publically speaking I mean,” Elisabeth suggested.
“Pony training, isn’t that just dressing up?” Sylvia asked seriously.
Elisabeth gaped at her. “Hush your mouth,” she hissed in mock shock, “Before somebody spanks you.”
Both women eyed a 30-something woman who Sylvia was certain she had seen behind the bar of the local pub. The woman was standing meekly facing the near wall under a tumble of familiar red curls with her generous curves well-displayed. Her full bottom had been seriously spanked and the woman could not help looking very woeful as she cast an occasional ill-disciplined glance over her shoulder at the rest of the room.
“She requires more training,” Elisabeth remarked, “If I did that I wouldn’t sit down for a week.”
“I am not sure she will either,” Sylvia smirked as she studied the mottled red on the woman’s bottom.
“Oh hello, who is that with Michael?” Elisabeth asked as she turned her attention to Michael Trench and his new girlfriend.
“Oh that’s Claire Summer, a lovely girl, we met her in London,” Sylvia said.
*
From the moment that someone took her coat Claire stood gaping. The scene was grand enough anyway for one of her background. The décor was first rate with dozens of expensively dressed people set in small groups around the room. But what really demanded her attention were the nude and nearly nude women standing facing various walls and alcove corners
“M-Michael,” she hissed, “Those women have been spanked.”
“Yes, so I see,” Michael Trench said casually. He carefully studied Claire’s reaction.
“Oh gosh,” she muttered under her breath.
“Don’t stare,” Michael chided her.
Claire blushed and snatched her eyes away.
“Claire, how are you?” Sylvia said warmly as she approached and acknowledging Michael.
The couple exchanged a quick air kiss with their new friend.
“Shall I introduce you or do you just want to walk around and get the feel for the place?” Sylvia asked, noting Claire’s wandering gaze.
“Oh sorry, I…” Claire blushed again.
“I know, it is a lot to take in the first time,” Sylvia said smoothly; then she noticed Claire had no white flower or badge. “Oh, I thought you would be protected.”
“Protected?” Claire asked.
“Oh sorry I forgot, yes you need to wear something white on your breast, a broach or most girls wear a flower,” Michael began to fumble in his pockets as if searching for something even though there was no flower to find.
“You might get hauled away and spanked if you don’t mind your manners here,” Sylvia giggled, “It isn’t likely, but guests and first timers… well it is just a precaution. Some husbands permit it as a general rule,” she added.
Sylvia’s hand strayed to her own absence; a small sore point between them. It meant that she was potentially fair game to any dominant in the room.
“You don’t have one,” Claire accused.
“No but…” Sylvia began.
“Then I won’t,” Claire said happily, then turning to Michael she whispered shyly, “I want to make this work.”
“But you don’t understand…” Michael began.
“Michael, I have made up my mind,” Claire told him sharply.
He shrugged.
*
“Does it hurt?” Claire asked the redhead facing the wall.
“Go away,” she whispered.
“It looks sore, sorer than I have ever had but…”
“Please go away, I am not supposed to talk to anyone,” the woman wailed.
“I’ll just tell whoever that it was my fault…” Claire said cheerfully.
“That won’t save her,” said a dark voice from behind.
Claire turned to see an older man in his 40s looking at her. He was well-built and of slightly above average height. His heavily lined face reminded her of Sean Connery in his late Bond years, although this man was wearing no wig and had short wiry steel grey hair which was pure white at the temples.
“My name is Drake,” he said smoothly as he offered her his hand.
“Oh hello, I was just asking…” Claire began.
“I could see that, but you’re not supposed to are you?” Drake said in a scolding tone.
“No I guess not,” Claire winced nervously.
“And you haven’t introduced yourself, that’s rude,” Drake told her.
“Oh sorry,” Claire blushed and slapped her hand to her mouth.
Drake waited.
“Oh, oh sorry, Claire, Claire Summer,” she gushed.
“Come with me Claire Summer,” Drake said sharply.
“Oh but I am with…” Claire squeaked.
“Are you going to add disobedience to your sins?” Drake intoned.
“No I…”
“Come with me.” Drake didn’t wait to see if he was obeyed but walked away across the room to the open French windows leading onto the terrace.
Claire looked around for Michael or Sylvia but couldn’t see them.
“Oh shite,” she muttered and making a decision she scurried after Drake.
Drake was waiting for her at the end of the terrace with heavily folded arms.
“I think I need to teach you some etiquette,” Drake scolded her.
“Oh?” Claire sounded disappointed.
Then Drake took her arm and sat down on the edge of the low wall surrounding the terrace. He tipped Claire easily across his lap and the set about tugging up her skirts.
“Mr Drake I…” Claire squealed.
Drake ignored her and pulled the last veil of her underwear down her thighs.
“Oh my gosh,” Claire gasped.
Michael could spank hard, sometimes under her boyfriend’s slipper she even gritted her teeth and found it difficult, but this was something else. Never before had she been so soundly spanked. Great power-driver blasts of paddle-hand first stole her breath away and then all coherent thought. In moments the last shreds of her dignity drooled from her mouth and she began to bawl like a music hall slapper-at.
“If you are going to join us you need to learn your place young lady,” Drake scolded her.
“Yes Sir,” she shrieked.
Drake spanked her harder if anything at this acknowledgment and she began to cry.
“I’ve learned, I’ve learned,” she wailed, a tear rolling off her nose.
“I am glad to hear it,” Drake chuckled, “Now when I am done here I want you to go and find a corner like the one you saw that lady standing at and face it with your hands on your head.”
“But I…”
“If you don’t I will spank you in front of everyone,” Drake growled at her, “And one more thing, tell your boyfriend that Drake requests that he spank you soundly again later for your impertinence.”
This Claire understood and she cried, “Yes Sir.”
“Good girl, now go and do as you are told,” Drake said affectionately.
“Yes Sir,” Claire gasped as she danced up and down grabbing at her rear.
“Oh and make sure you leave your bottom uncovered,” Drake ordered as he got up to go.
“Oh shit,” Claire moaned as she continued to dance, “Ooh.”
Gerald was talking to Michael when he saw Claire rather sheepishly creep in from the terrace with her evening dress bunched up and held in front of her waist. The girl’s knickers were dangling around her knees and were only kept from tripping her up at the ankles by dint of Claire’s grip on them. She seemed to be searching for something and frantically looked as if she might flee. Then she saw something and scurried towards it giving Gerald a good view of a cherry red bottom that was more than a match for her face.
As Claire found and settled herself in a corner in the far alcove that was almost but not quite out of sight Michael saw her too.
“Oh God, she had only been here 10 minutes,” he groaned. “I thought she would be alright with your wife.”
“I rather think she has been learning about spankmanship,” Gerald said sardonically.
“I suppose I should rescue her,” Michael sighed.
“Why don’t you leave her there for a while,” Gerald suggested, “It will do her good.”
Then he turned and went to look for something else that needed his attention.
*
“Gerald this is…” Sylvia began as she saw her husband approach.
But Gerald didn’t take her words in.
“Do excuse us,” he said as he took her arm.
Then it was Sylvia’s turn to be lead away to the terrace.
“Looks like she has been a naughty girl,” the deserted guest sighed.
Outside Sylvia was upended across Gerald’s knee without explanation and quickly bared.
“What have I done?” she wailed.
“Have you seen our friend Claire lately?” he growled as he spanked down on Sylvia’s by now exposed bottom.
“You mean the flower? I tried to… but she… what happened?” Sylvia blustered.
“She got a lesson in spankmanship,” Gerald said sharply, “The same lesson you are going to get.”
“She insisted… she’ll be alright…” Sylvia wailed.
“She will, but you my love are going to get a very sound lesson.” Then Gerald set about giving Sylvia her first truly public spanking.
“Gerald,” she shrieked, but it was for show, in her heart she knew he had every right. That was just another truth about spankmanship, but she would learn and she would welcome that understanding.
Then Gerald spanked all the harder and she began to call out, gathering some little attention in the process. Sometimes lessons were hard.
The End
