Cuckolding in British spanking mags: Mortification of the Flesh

The jealousy and humiliation of a husband having his wife taken from him against his will is a huge turn on. One of the highlights of this story is how the husband clearly knows his wife's 'contemplative retreat' will end up with her getting spanked and screwed by strange men, but he is powerless to stop her...

Graham explodes. 'Eight weekends! You can't! That's ridiculous.'

...

'It's a retreat,' Anne Harling tells her husband. 'A spiritual retreat. You go to get a, you know, spiritual recharge.'

Anne Harling is 21, three years younger than Graham, a nice-looking blonde and of course she doesn't have a job. Anne wanted to get one when they were married a year ago but Graham said she didn't need to work and he would rather she was just a housewife, looking after him and their house. The other reason although he didn't like to spell it out was that Graham didn't like the thought of Anne being too independent. At work, with male colleagues: well you heard things, didn't you? Frisky young married women.

Graham didn't really think Anne would – but he could have these rather nasty visions of her being persuaded by some persuasive male colleague. To be friendly. To fuck him in other words. Graham didn't really imagine she would but he just felt happier with Anne at home. And she didn't need to work.

...

He doesn't want Anne going on a spiritual retreat alone. 'Maybe I'll come too then. You said there were men there.'
Anne shakes her head. She did know that. Charlotte had been quite clear about that. 'But not husbands and wives. That would defeat the object. I mean, being spiritual.' She moves over to sit next to him. Smiling coyly. 'It's spiritual, darling.'

Of course he could always spank her himself and order her not to go...

But I suppose some men are born to spank, and some men are born to be cuckolded!

Graham though he is annoyed with Anne also wants to make love to her. Wants to fuck her. Well he won't be able to tomorrow night or Saturday, Anne will be away, in some little monastic cell a hundred miles off. There are men at this place. Men on retreat and also the resident monks or whatever they are. Graham doesn't feel too keen about that aspect, though of course they are bound to be wimpy types. Although even wimpy types can be interested in pretty women.

The whole thing is very annoying, upsetting, and perhaps because of that Graham has a very intense erection. With the thought of those men he feels like something he doesn't always want. Perhaps subconsciously to demonstrate to himself his masculinity, his ownership of Anne. He wants her to suck him. The desire for it is suddenly very powerful. Mixed in with the desire are disturbing images, glimpses, in his head of Anne sucking other men.

They are very unpleasant but powerful also. All adding up to this sudden great need for it.
Once she realises what he wants Anne is willing enough. She can guess at Graham's special need. He is possessive and doesn't want her to go. So he wants this special thing to demonstrate that she is his. Anne can guess this and accepts it. She accepts therefore his jutting organ. Taking it in her mouth.

But you can't win. Anne is doing it, sucking Graham, giving marvellous sensual pleasure. But into Graham's mind comes the thought: Anne could do it. He pictures it: all those wimpy men coming one by one into her little cell.

Of course the retreat is exactly as spiritual as Graham suspects:

As always he is very keen to recruit young female Novices. Both for his own pleasure and because they are necessary to keep St Alwyn's as a viable concern.

There is of course no greater pleasure than training a young woman in the ways of penitence and fleshy rigours. In particular perhaps a young married woman who in the world outside is routinely knowing the lusts of the flesh; is regularly submitting her soft and tender body to sinful pleasure. But there is the other reason too: which is that beautiful young female Novitiates will attract men visitors. Who are prepared to pay substantially for a stay on retreat – if they are in the company of submissive and beautiful young female Novices.

Anne's married friend Charlotte is also a delight. It was she who introduced Anne to the retreat, and there is clearly a conspiracy among middle-class ladies to make sure no 'respectable' suburban wife goes untouched:

The Visitor is spanking her bared bottom. And fondling it. The two activities going hand in hand. A series of sharp smacks... and then his hand caressing the hot cheeks, the backs of her pretty thighs. And in between the thighs. Charlotte is alternately yelping and groaning. This combined treatment is certainly getting to her. She is in a sexually aroused state. Because what is happening is a very powerful stimulant for Charlotte. Sharp corporal chastisement of her bottom plus the knowing fingers between her legs, at her pussy. This sort of thing... always makes her go off like a bomb.

The brown-garbed Visitor has heard of the new Novice. As have all the other regular Visitors. A lovely girl, new and untrained, starting next weekend, on Friday. They are of course all eager to see her. To have a hand in her early training. A new and untried young woman is such an exciting prospect. New girls are always awaited with the keenest excitement. So there is bound to be a full house of Visitors next weekend. Not that the other girls, the ones who are now more or less regular, are not also a major attractant. Girls like Charlotte.
'Is she a hot one?' the Visitor with three fingers inside Charlotte asks. 'Is she going to like it as much as our hot Carlotta?'
Charlotte replies only with a gurgling groan. She doesn't know. Charlotte has never discussed things with Anne. Though quite possibly Anne would be keen if led into it by an expert. Someone different from that Graham of course. Led into the full pleasures of chastisement and sexual arousal. There are experts at St Alwyn's of course. The Master. And the Brothers. Not to mention various of the regular Visitors. All very keen to put a new and pretty girl through the hoops.
Charlotte comes with a high-pitched screech. Jerking and rolling her hips like a cat in heat. Her companion pushes her off of his lap. 'My word Carlotta. What sinful writhings. We'll have to have something for that. Eh? A nice touch of the cane.'

Charlotte shivers. She knows what is coming and she shivers. With fear, excitement, anticipation. She hates the cane but at the same time it turns her on. It also turns her on to think that Anne Harling will be getting it. Anne doesn't know this of course. Not yet. Anne who is really so innocent and perhaps a bit prudish but at the same time is eager to know about things, about life. And of course that awful prig Graham who doesn't want her to do anything. What if he knew what was in store for his darling Anne?
Charlotte is told to bend herself over the Master's desk. Heart pounding, she does so. She has been visiting St Alwyn's for two months now, weekends mostly but once a whole week. Charlotte has been caned in all that time but the feeling is always the same: the feeling when you prepare yourself, when you lie over the desk. With knickers lowered. To submit yourself to the Master's will. To his whippy rattan cane. Or when alternatively you have to lie on top of the desk, on your back. Your knickers again lowered and your legs breath-takingly now up in the air. That feeling: your skin tingling; sweating with fear... and excitement.

The Master is pulling down her knickers. Simon doesn't know of course. About this. About any of it. Charlotte's Simon who is not a prig like Graham Harling but nonetheless Charlotte clearly couldn't tell him. About what actually happens at St Alwyn's. Spiritual exercises. Contemplation. That is that she says. Without going into a lot of detail. The same as she has told Anne. Simon seems to accept it. Because for one thing of course he can't guess that Charlotte cold be turned on by this sort of thing.

...

Writhing her hips, her stricken bottom. She'll have to tell Anne... to be careful Graham doesn't see her bottom. The marks...

Charlotte anyway doesn't know how many she's had. You can't keep count. They hurt so much but at the same time... they get you going. She must have had six though. Because her bottom is really killing her. And also... she's almost coming. She's on the very brink. So that when his hand... or something else... goes there... she'll go off like a Roman Candle.

And when Anne eventually gets initiated, as if it isn't titillating enough...

Her face that is flushed as she answers a reluctant 'Yes Master' to his question: is she ever unfaithful to her husband? Anne has to tell him, face scarlet. About Mr Ponbridge, the retired man who comes round to do jobs in the garden. Mr Ponbridge who has intercourse with Anne. Fucks her. On his twice weekly visits. Why does she let him? Anne doesn't really know except that one day, after she made him some coffee, he managed to persuade her. And after that...

'That will certainly require a Penance, Novice Anne. A series of Penances. And now tell me about your husband. Your relations with sour husband. I presume sexual relations are continuing. In spite of Mr Ponbridge. Tell me about them.'
The Master has pulled Anne closer. His hand is now on her bottom. Outside the black robe but stroking the cheeks of her bottom. Anne is shaking. The hand and also what she has just been forced to tell. Anne now... the Master wants to know everything about her and Graham. She hadn't anticipated that there would be any of this. This sort of confession. She is being forced to tell exactly what she and Graham do. Last night... She wouldn't tell but the feeling that she can't lie, even by omission, is too powerful. She forces the words out. He makes her tell it in detail. Sucking Graham.

It is another example of course of the lusts of the flesh. Indicative possibly of an overweening appetite. To curb this the cane will be necessary. Does Anne understand that? A severe caning to moderate this lustful craving. In fact a series of severe canings.
As Anne is told this the Master's hand has lifted her robe. At the back. Sliding his hand up the backs of her bare legs. Up the backs of her likewise bare thighs to the brief little knickers. His fingers groping. Does she understand? And in humility accept? The chastisement of her tender flesh.
'Y... Yes... Master.' The words popping out as the Master's hand gropes her.
'Good. We will do that... in a few moments. We will begin the chastisement. But first of all another Penance. In view of the particular lustful act that you have described...'

Anne realises she is to kneel, on the bare wood floor. In front of the Master. He is pulling up his own robe. Under which, like her own, there is very little. In Master Nicholas's case just himself it seems... A little gasp as she sees it. As it comes clear of the yanked up robe. Then he is pulling her forward. Anne's head, face, forward. And she knows what she has to do. The lustful act. It is to be repeated.

British spanking mags: tormenting powerless cuckolds

It must be hard when your darling wife sleeps around without you knowing, or when every few months you have to give her a scorching caning for cheating again. But spare a thought for those hapless husbands who know exactly what is going on, but can't do anything about it!
This comes closest to the common cuckolding scenario. But while cuckolds often enjoy their wives being with another man, these husbands decidedly don't.
Usually these stories are set in an unfair society where an older man has far too much power - enough that he can do what he wants with the wives of lesser men.

'The Schoolmaster's Wife' has a particularly tasty setting: a husband takes a job at an exclusive boarding school and his wife learns that the headmaster expects to grope and spank her bottom whenever he feels like it!

Priscilla was now prepared to believe anything! "He-he doesn't really cane us, does he?" she asked weakly.
"Oh I'm afraid he does, dear. Whenever we give him the excuse and sometimes when there is no excuse at all. I'm afraid, like he says, we are a pleasant diversion from the boys."
"But – but does your husband know?" asked Priscilla, incredulously.
"Oh yes, of course he does. And he just has to accept it as one of the Head's little quirks. After all he values his position here... and it's not as if the Head was screwing me, is it?"

And if that wasn't enough, the senior boys are allowed to as well!

So ask yourself, Priscilla, can you control fifty hormonally charged boys who are all dreaming of getting you naked and giving you a good shagging?"

...

Priscilla, struggling to maintain composure, asked what Angela did to ease the pupil problem.
Angela flushed slightly. "Let's just say I'm very friendly with them, without letting them have... er... you-know-what. I sometimes let them watch me undress and sometimes – well, I do sometimes let them spank me."

But in the tastiest exchange, it's suggested that there is another way to keep all those horny young men placated:

Of course, you could be like Susan Rogers, whose husband runs Lamont House, and simply allow the boys to screw you. She never has any trouble with discipline."

Priscilla gasped in disbelief. This just couldn't be happening!
"No, it's true," said Angela. "Mind you, Susan is a little tart. She loves screwing them anyway."

Well, as her husband says:

"Pris, we've got to get the senior boys co-operation. Otherwise – well I could lose this job. And, I suppose they only want to have a bit of fun, really."

Of course, the time a man is really vulnerable to cuckolding is when he's only just an adult, courting or maybe engaged to the girl of his dreams with not even a shared surname to ward off potential suitors. Especially when those suitors are in positions of power and authority.

While the 'good old days' were a great time for real men who knew how to discipline their wives, they were also a great time for powerful men who always got what they wanted. Especially at home, with their many servants, as shown in 'Trials of a Parlormaid'. Even (or perhaps especially) if said parlormaid is already spoken for:

From the stable block at the rear of the house a young man glances up at a window on the first floor.

...

He can nonetheless see something in his mind. A young woman standing there. Waiting. She will still be waiting at this moment. He glances at his watch. Yes. The master is a man of strict routine... Sir George Hartgrove.
The young man (he is 22) with the keenly watching eyes is called Arthur Tradwell.

...

He lives in the village with his parents and does not need to be here at this hour of the evening except... for that young woman he knows, or believes, to be at present in that room opposite on the first floor. She is close to being his fiancee; certainly they are walking out as the expression is. Her name is Jane Linnet. She is 19 and a parlourmaid at the Manor

...

Perhaps no one else did know? But he knew that wasn't likely. They would know the other inside servants. Cook (Mrs Hagley). Mr Jermyn, the butler. Also the other maids? Did the other girls have to go and see Sir George in that room? 'S...Sarah does,' Jane had whispered. Sarah was the other parlourmaid, a pretty girl but not in Arthur's eyes half as pretty as Jane. Sarah had to go at lunch time Jane muttered.
'Does he do it? To Sarah?' Arthur had asked. Jane wouldn't answer — but he knew the answer was yes.

But Arthur wasn't concerned about Sarah. It was Jane. Every evening before dinner. Or almost every evening. Almost, so there was a chance it wasn't tonight. Arthur tried to tell himself that. Yesterday and tomorrow but maybe not right now. That would be something, that it wasn't happening, or about to happen now. Arthur's eyes are intent, straining... as if somehow they could pierce the drapes... and see that Jane wasn't there. He looks again at his watch. 7.45...

But Jane isn't getting screwed, but spanked...

Jane hoists up her skirts. Naturally there is no thought of refusal, of argument. Jane is a parlourmaid. Sir George Hartgrove's parlourmaid. He is her master and as such can do virtually what he wants with her. And if he wants to spank her bare bottom every day before dinner...

And beforehand the man in power has something to say that certainly applies to Arthur:

Not hot for that Arthur? Eh?'
'N...No Sir.'

...
'I hope not, my girl. I don't want you giving it to him. Whatever the weather. And no one else either. Not Jermyn. Nor to anyone who comes to the house. Is that understood?'
Jane stutters a desperate 'Yes Sir.' 
'You and Arthur Tradwell, Jane. Nothing planned yet?' Frantic-eyed Jane shakes her head.
'Good. Well, see that you discuss it with me before you make any plans. I won't necessarily object. Perhaps you're getting to the age when you need to be wed. Eh? A big, ripe girl. Maybe you need a young man in bed at night giving it to you. Tupping you. We'll see, eh? But until then... I want you still a virgin, my girl. Is that understood?'

I suppose Arthur standing outside while his girl is punished, and her boss forbidding her from giving him any pre-wedding fun, is sort of cuckolding, but it's hardly the worst thing that could happen, as Arthur well knows...

Arthur doesn't have to imagine Sir George going in there at night and getting at Jane in bed. If a gentleman is randy and inclined that way then there is nothing a girl, a helpless parlourmaid, can do about it. But Sir George at least does not have the urge in that direction — otherwise he would have the two girls in separate rooms. In a way, perhaps, Arthur thinks he should be thankful he doesn't have that worse thing to worry, about: Sir George getting in Jane's bed, on top of her, when the fancy takes him.

The worst thing comes later...

Jane won't be sleeping in her own little bed tonight. No, Oliver Hartgrove, nephew of the master and with the master away, has other plans for this delicious young woman.

A rare crossover between the spanking universes of Britain and the USA occurs in 'American Dream Girl'. A pretty, A-grade American senior wins an essay contest and her 'prize' is an exchange with a British finishing school. Her fellow students are obviously readers of this blog as they are well versed in what goes on at British finishing schools, and they delight in informing her:

Lorene Greene said, 'Well I hope you enjoy it, MarySue. I'm sure you will. But you know what those teachers are like in England. Well everyone knows of course. They're always caning girls. They just love to put the cane to a girl's bare rear. You'll really enjoy that no doubt.

But the other thing is – they're really horny as well.' And then Lorene said something else in a hot half whisper.

'The girls go down on them. Suck them in other words. They really go for that.'

They also delight in informing her boyfriend, who will no doubt spend weeks and weeks imagining what could be happening to his future fiancee:

MarySue at l8 had not started doing it yet. Not yet started screwing. She had a steady boyfriend, Greg Banford, also in the 13th grade at Northside, but they didn't go further than reasonably heavy petting.

...

Just occasionally when MarySue was in the mood; when she was feeling a little bit horny perhaps – because even straight-A girls who were really keen on doing well at school and getting into a good college could sometimes at 18 feel a bit horny. Wondering what it would feel like to have a guy's stiff thing probing into her... and then going right up. Yes and when MarySue sometimes had those kind of thoughts lucky Greg might be permitted to slip her panties down and get his hand between those sweet thighs and get his hand at MarySue's on such occasions hot and quite wet pussy.

...

MarySue's sweet tits, her thighs, the thought especially of her pussy, could all easily distract him. But on this occasion though he certainly did have those considerations in his head, there was also something else. Yes Greg had also heard Lorene's thoughts on the subject of English school. On what his MarySue could expect.

It had made him see red alright.

It was really sickening. Sick. The thought of it. MarySue getting her bare ass whacked by some awful Brit teacher's horny hand.

And even much worse of course that other. Having to suck this guy. Suck... his big stiff cock... Poor Greg felt sick and ill at the utterly horrendous thought of it.

and he is clearly well aware how powerless he is:

Now sitting with his lovely girl on the settee in her parlour he just had to mention it. He couldn't help it – though at the same time it was really difficult to get the words out. But he had to.

 ...

'It's just a lot of really sick talk,' he declared.

...

But of course Greg didn't know it was just sick talk. It could be that it would really happen. MarySue getting her lovely ass spanked by this awful English guy. Or even caned. You did hear they did that as well in English schools. And also the other. MarySue having to suck this guy's cock. Yeeks! That was the worst alright.

And if it happened – MarySue probably wouldn't want to tell. When she came back. 'No,' she would say brightly. 'It was OK, I had a really great time.' When in fact she had been getting her bare bottom spanked. Maybe not just the Head but various other male teachers too. All keen to have a go at Mary Sue's sweet ass.

 

 And the other too. Sucking their cocks. A couple of times a day maybe?

'Just make sure you tell me,' Greg hissed desperately. Unthinkingly. 'If it does happen. Because I would really want to know, that's all.'

So maybe Greg is at least hoping that he'll get a blow by blow account during a phonecall and he can have a wank and a cry at the same time. Truly a cuckold in training!

But Greg is even closer to being cuckolded that he realises. We never even get to see if the rumors about MarySue's exchange are true, but it doesn't matter because her principal has also heard the stories and is eager to help her prepare for the ordeal. All of the ordeal!

Jerry Wexford had long wondered if such tales were true. Did those limey teachers really do it?

....

Some awful Brit teacher with one of those awful limey accents – with lovely MarySue held bottom-up over his lap. Her skirt up and her no doubt really cute and brief panties dragged down. To bare that delectable, mouth-watering ass. Which this awful guy was belabouring with heavy whacks of his open palm. With no doubt as the same time a really big erection on which under the distressed girl he was rubbing in against her sweet pussy.

...

Jerry Wexford had the sudden exhilarating thought of writing to this English character – the Head of the school where MarySue would be going. Telling him to feel free to put the cane to her. 'Miss Phillips is in need of a little corporal punishment, something which here in the States we unfortunately do not practise. She is a really excellent student and of course a lovely girl. But she could do with having her lovely ass warmed up. Like most pretty 18-year-olds, don't you think? Yes, please give her it nice and hard on her bare bottom.'

Could he write that? Mr Wexford had suddenly developed a considerable hard-on

Through a sort of red haze she heard Mr Wexford say it was six. Six was probably what a girl could expect in England. 'Well for starters at least. Six of the best, that's their expression.'

She was still gasping for breath. Gasping with the impossible shock. But... it was over. At least.

Wasn't it? At least Mr Wexford had finished. Well... The thing was he had also heard about that other thing Lorene had said. What a girl could also expect on a visit to an English school. Jerry Wexford had got it from Steve Slofield

...

He had had a quiet word with young Slofield – who had relishingly relayed what Lorene had said in its entirely.

Adding with an innocent expression, 'What do you think, Mr Wexford? Can those British teachers really do that sort of stuff?'

Jerry Wexford had grinned. 'What do you think, Steve?'

But what Mr Wexford thought was... Well could he? The thought of it was even more dizzyingly exciting than the rest: the spanking and caning. They had been fantastic, and he thought that maybe he was going to have to do it again before she went off. Well maybe more than once. Just to ensure the lovely girl was fully prepared for what those Brits could do to her.

But to have her fully prepared... there was this other. Yes, and who could say that those awful characters wouldn't try that. Because you couldn't put anything past them. Could you?

The darling girl was still in the altogether, apart from her knee socks and shoes.

Yes a truly glorious vision. And what Jerry Wexford, principal of Northside High, greatly desired now was for the vision to do a certain something. Which no doubt those British members of the teaching profession were in the habit of requiring in quite a routine manner from their choicer female students. And were there going to be any choicer that lovely MarySue Phillips? No. No possible way.

His desire for her to do it was really quite overwhelming.

* * *

Mr Wexford has his arm round MarySue. He is leading her over to the settee. But once there it is the Head who sits down, and tells MarySue to kneel. Kneel on the rug. Close up. Between his parted thighs. And then...

Oh! Can it really be! What appears to be Mr Wexford's request! In the manner of the English teaching profession according to Lorene Greene. Yes. It is. And the delectable MarySue is complying...  she is pulling down the zip to Mr Wexford's pants. And then... pulling out this very large stiff thing. And then...

So while Greg is at home, obsessing over the thought of his lovely lady sucking on an English master's slender cock, she is at that very moment on her knees, making his nightmares come true with his very own all-American principal!

Cuckolding in British spanking mags: Aftermath

Vigorous plumbers? Well-endowed waiters? What woman could resist!
Janus's 'Aftermath' ticks plenty of kinky boxes, has some interesting comments on class and cuckolding, and features a faithless lady actually getting punished for cheating by her man... 

The nubile, green-eyed trainee accountant had expected some kind of reaction when stockbroker Jeremy found out that she had been 'having it off' with the plumber who had repaired the central heating. His reaction had, however, taken the redhead completely by surprise...

In her torment, she still wondered if Jeremy's reaction would have been quite the same had her 'one-off' lover been a professional person like themselves and not a tradesman. Very class-conscious was polo-playing Jeremy...
During her 'inquisition', Jeremy had asked her if she had enjoyed 'shagging the plumber', as he so crudely termed her indiscretion. Rachel had lied and said 'No.' He had asked her again during the punishment and she had repeated the lie. Then the speed and the force of the hairbrush smacks on her bare bottom had increased to a frenzied tattoo.

She now reflected that Jeremy couldn't possibly have been expected to believe her answer. The faster and fiercer the stiff back of the brush had fallen, the more that point had been driven home to her.
'He wasn't as good as you – honestly!' Rachel had screeched... That urgent remark had been a fib, too. The young plumber had been every bit as good in bed as Jeremy was – no better, but certainly just as good. And excitingly different. Not as tenderly sensual, but more vigorous, more urgent...

Jeremy could only match that rhythm with the hairbrush!.... Whenever she happened to recall the illicit lovemaking with the curly-haired, tattooed plumber who was barely out of his apprenticeship – as she was bound to do in idle moments – then any pleasurable recollections of the intimacy would be completely obliterated by the memory of this burning punishment. She would have to remember exactly what Jeremy had done to her superbly-rounded, eye-catching bottom. Upon which the randy youngster had especially complimented her!

That same bottom was now a hot globe. If she ever did dare to sleep with someone other than Jeremy in the future, she would make sure that he could not possibly find out about it. Rachel could not go through this fiery stinging torture ever again.
Rachel knew that Jeremy had 'had it off' the previous year in Barbados with that sun-kissed blonde from California. She hadn't said anything about that!
She hadn't said anything because, at that same time, she had been clasped in the arms of a very well-endowed Mexican waiter! Up to then she had only fantasised about 'a bit of rough', but now...

 

It's rather nice to see Rachel hasn't quite learned her lesson about fornicating with the lower classes. A sequel beckons!

Cuckolding in British spanking mags: where cheating wives go

Legendary artists Paula Meadows and Hardcastle illustrated the stories 'Burton Manor' and 'Lessons for an errant wife', both about faithless wives being sent away for training.

One stay at Burton Manor is reckoned to be quite enough for any young woman. Enough, that is, to put her properly back on the straight and narrow path. And the shortcomings, the failings, whatever they may have been, which have resulted in her coming here, will then be very much things of the past.

This particular young woman? Her name is Jane Randall, a young married lady of 24 with an attractive figure, whose short blonde hair frames a pretty face: big grey eyes, pert nose, full-lipped mouth. And could this last feature be a clue to her presence here – a sign of possible sensual weakness, a propensity to say Yes when a married lady should say No? It is of course easy to see signs when one knows. Because Jane is here for the reason which most commonly brings young wives to Burton Manor. The indulgence in a little casual adultery.
It was a month ago that she was unfortunately found out. At a party when husband Bob inopportunely went into one of the bedrooms looking for his coat and discovered Jane being enthusiastically pleasured by another of the guests. Back at home there was the usual scene of marital aggro, during which a tearful Jane admitted having additionally done it a couple of times before with this character; and for good measure had also been serviced a few times by two others in the last two months as well.

Finally when the heat had dissipated somewhat they agreed to see a Marriage Counsellor. He interviewed them together, then saw Bob alone. 'She's got a certain weakness here but a short sharp shock can usually work wonders. A short stay at a Training Institute and she would come back with no desire at all for that kind of thing. If you're interested I could probably fit her in at Burton Manor....'

...

'Haven't you got your schedule yet? They'll probably give you it this evening. Well, it can vary. What are you here for? Adultery?'
Quietly, Jane says, 'Yes.'

...

But surely we have now seen enough of Burton Manor to accept that three weeks of its regime will bring any errant wife to heel. She will go back home submissive and dutiful, and concerned only to please her husband; in fact desperate to do anything for him just so long as she does not have to return to Burton Manor.
And so three weeks from now (if she has not had a day or two added for some shortcoming) the sleek black car will again emerge through those ornate iron gates. And Jane Randall will be conducted back to that remote railway station, and from there back to home and husband. There will be tears of relief that it is over, tears of happiness to be back, and tearful promises that she will never, ever, again....

'Lessons for an errant wife' also showed another good way of having adult characters in school uniform - use it as a shaming outfit...

Carole Wright in fact was a young married lady who had not been behaving very properly.

It was Mr Mannings who had organised this whole diabolical plan. He was the solicitor Bob had gone to when he found out that Carole had been going round to her boss's house at lunch times and not just for a cup of coffee. In blazing anger he had gone to the solicitor demanding an immediate divorce. But Mr Mannings had persuaded Bob that perhaps he was being too hasty. Why not give her one more chance, but punish her for what she had done.
Carole certainly didn't want a divorce. She had simply been having a pleasant fling on the side. Mr Brightling's attention had been very flattering and it hadn't needed a lot of persuasion to get her to say yes. For a couple of months life had been utterly fantastic, doing it with Mr Brightling at lunch time and that proving to add an extra dimension to her nights in bed with Bob.

Then of course Bob had found out. Carole had been desperate, losing the security of her husband and marriage being the last thing she wanted
So she had been eager to agree to any alternative. What suave, smooth-talking Mr Mannings had come up with had been this way-out idea of going back to school.

A friend of his was acquainted with the Headmaster of a small, old-fashioned boarding school for girls, a rather bleak institution particularly favoured as a dumping-ground for unwanted stepdaughters on account of its relatively low fees, lack of leniency and optional holiday boarding facilities. Why not send Carole to stay with Mr Farnworth for a couple of weeks and attend Mr Wescott's school?
Mr Mannings had smiled his professional solicitor's smile as Carole and Bob sat in his office.
'Your dear wife has behaved irresponsibly and childishly, Mr Wright, so why not treat her as a child? Two weeks in a short schoolgirl's skirt and carrying a satchel to school. She won't enjoy that one little bit. And we can ask Mr Wescott to make life a little, ah, hot for her.'

Carole had flushed. It sounded pretty sickening but not as bad as Bob getting a divorce. It never entered her head that making life 'hot' for her could possibly include the cane across her bare bottom!

'Darling, please!' Carole had difficulty in making her voice work. 'Please let me come back. I... I can't take it here.'
'What d'you mean you can't take it,' Bob growled. 'You haven't even been there a whole day yet. It sounds to me as if they're doing a pretty good job. So that when you do come back in two weeks you'll think twice every time you feel randy.'

It seems Carole is in very good hands!

What Mr Farnworth had in mind soon became apparent. A little spot of humiliating embarrassment. 'Just between the four of us,' he confided, 'Carole's been a naughty girl. Had to have the cane this afternoon. Not working properly. So right now she's got some nice red marks on her bottom.'

...

Carole cringed. One of the two newcomers, a fat man with a red sweaty face, said, 'I wouldn't mind watching her get that. Eh Jack? On the bare was it?'
'Oh yes,' replied Mr Farnworth. 'I told the Headmaster that he would have to deal strictly with her otherwise she might get really out of hand. Actually if you two are interested she's got to have a slippering before bed tonight. Bad language. Why not come back and view the proceeding?'
Carole felt like sinking through the floor. Naturally the offer was enthusiastically taken up.

...
Not for the first time today Carole found herself bitterly regretting those lunch-time dalliances with Mr Brightling.

...

'That Bill Larkins really seems to fancy you, my dear. Yes, very keen. Actually I'm not sure that hitting you with a slipper is all he wants to do to you. If you get my meaning. What do you think, you're very experienced in those matters? I bet you'd rather like it, eh? He said he'd like you to stop over at his place one night.'