Endart manips: A Walloping At Their Wedding

It's another hot and sticky summer weekend and that means at weddings all over the world smartly dressed people are sweating in expensive suits and new dresses as champagne flows and blushing brides are ogled by dirty older men!

Weddings provide all sorts of opportunities for the more mature sexual connoisseurs. For the experienced cocksmen there are jealous bridesmaids, bored wives of rarely seen friends and relatives, and of course an emotional mother of the bride. For the horny older lady there are hordes of smartly dressed young men receptive to an invitation for a brief stay in her hotel suite.

And for the truly ambitious there is the happy couple themselves. Particularly if, say, an older and somewhat dominant couple had some kind of hold over them from the past...

This series was inspired by a request that the couples in my 'A Walk in the Woods' series experience a bit of guy on guy and girl on girl action. And what better place to do it than on their wedding day!

Tradition dictates that a bride should receive something old (well the couple are her parents age...) something new (she's never been spanked by a woman before) something borrowed (the other husband was very kind in loaning his wife for the experience) and something 'blue' (certainly in the rude sense of the word) and why should the groom miss out? And if the thing that ticks all these boxes is another man's cock then so be it: after all it does belong to an experienced 'old' cocksman, it is certainly a 'new' experience for the young groom, he's had to 'borrow' it from the man's wife for his first gay experience, and it's definitely blue, as he wouldn't want his mother to see it (though maybe she already has knowing these suburban ladies!)

One wonders what Tim and Sasha's married life will be like given that they've been so sexually dominated during their courtship and now their wedding. Will their master and mistress join them on their honeymoon? Will Sasha strike out on her own and take charge as a dominant cuckoldress? Or will both of them always want to play the submissive and invite others to punish and fuck them side by side?

Cuckolding in British spanking mags: Video Lessons

In the spanking world, it seems that no-one can deal with a naughty young lady better than an older gent. Headmasters, dads, uncles, bosses…every grey hair seems to indicate an extra level of ability with the cane! And since I started reading Dmitry’s excellent blog, British Spanking Magazines, I’ve become much more open to the idea of cuckolding involving older men. Many of the stories from Janus and other classic spanking magazines feature older gents getting into a position of power over young wives, and taking the opportunity to give them a damn good spanking. And it doesn’t always stop there!

Several of the stories seem to be set in a kind of alternative modern world, where ‘respect your elders’ isn’t just still the accepted wisdom, it’s practically the law! And that means that if the elderly gent next door fancies having your wife over for a spot of caning followed by a bit of ‘practice’ of her wifely duties, well then you’d damn well better let her go!

Perhaps the best story of this kind is ‘Video Lessons’. In it, a young husband (on his honeymoon no less) rudely refuses an older man’s offer to take his new bride out for a drink, suspecting (quite rightly!) that he just wants to get inside her knickers.

It was two weeks ago, almost at the end of their honeymoon at the seaside resort of Southcliffe. Graham and Pam had been in a pub on the front in the early afternoon, having a drink at the bar. The stranger had introduced himself and wanted to buy them a drink. A middle-aged man with glasses and a clipped military moustache. Ronald Carling he had said.

Graham had said, 'No thanks', rather curtly perhaps. He had already noticed the stranger eyeing Pam. His sharp eyes on Pam's slim but ripe shape in her pretty short-skirted pink frock. Mr Carling had tried to insist and Graham had repeated his refusal and said they had to go. They had left the pub, Graham conscious of Carling's eyes on Pam's rear view.

The next afternoon they came across him again when they went for a stroll along the promenade. Perhaps Carling had been on the lookout for them but he suddenly appeared.

'Hello. Remember me? Ronald Carling. How about that drink now?'

Graham said, 'No. Really. And we'd rather you didn't keep bothering us.'

Mr Carling has coloured slightly and then made the threat. Saying it wasn't a good idea for young people to be discourteous, impolite. When someone was trying to be friendly. His eyes had been on Pam, eyeing her tits in the brief sun-top. Then he had looked straight at Graham.

'You could regret being unfriendly, young man.'

He had gone on to suggest that if Graham didn't want a drink he could take Pam by herself. He was sure the pretty lady would like a drink, and sure she didn't want to be unfriendly.

Graham had a sudden hot vision of Mr Carling taking Pam off somewhere. In his car perhaps. Taking her somewhere and fucking her. That was what this man wanted, Graham could see it in his eyes. Or he thought he could. A nice juicy young piece that he had suddenly taken a fancy to.

Red in the face at the thought, Graham blurted, 'Fuck off!'

...

Pam said maybe she should have gone and had a drink with him.

Graham said, 'He wanted to... you know. Fuck you. That's what he wanted.'

Pam had coloured. 'Well, I wouldn't have let him. And maybe he didn't want that.'

Graham said, 'Yes he did. He would have driven you out in the country and just done it. Taken your knickers off and just done it.'

To teach the young husband a lesson in manners, the older man picks up Pam after work, where her boss is already doing a few things that Graham wouldn’t be too happy about...

Pam had remained nervous at first.

...

She had thought about it a lot at the beginning. Wondering if Graham had been right and the stranger had wanted to screw her. She had seen his looks of course, as Graham had, and it was certainly possible, likely perhaps. And it was true too what Graham said. He could have  taken her knickers off and simply done it. Screwed her.

Pam knew that even if she had denied it to Graham. At 19, as she was, a girl knew it as a fact of life. Nowadays. 1995. Pam knew it in particular from Predent Insurance where she had worked for the last year. A girl found out there were certain things she couldn't argue with. Not if she wanted to keep her job. Graham of course didn't know about work. About that side of work. About her boss, Mr Forton. And he of course wasn't the only one at work.

No doubt that Mr Carling would have been the same. His eyes on her had said he wanted the same.

...

Things were not greatly different back at work. She was a married woman now, Mrs Gilfield and now Pam Mercer, but that didn't change things. Not for Mr Forton certainly.

'How was Southcliffe?' he greeted her. 'But I suppose you didn't see it. I suppose you were in bed all week. Doing it continuously day and night for the whole week, eh?'

And then Mr Forton wanted it. Right away. When she was scarcely in the office. Wanting it there, with the door locked.

'Maybe married life doesn't agree,' Mr Forton said. 'All that screwing you're getting every night is too much. Maybe we'd better put a ban on it. Mmm?'

Then of course he wanted it himself. In his office, with the door locked. Over the desk. Pam didn't object or argue. In 1995 you didn't argue with the way things were. Pam knew that. And Graham knew it too now. After his lessons.

No, things were still the same. And with that and their new flat to occupy Pam's mind the thought of the importunate stranger quite quickly faded. He could be forgotten. Until two weeks later. Thursday evening, just after five o'clock when she went to her car in the car park. There he was. Smiling. Waiting for her.

...

Breathless now she walked up to him.

'Good girl,' he said softly. 'Mrs Gilfield, correct? The new Mrs Gilfield. And she's going to come and have a drink with me.'

He had moved in close. His hands were unbuttoning her light coat. One hand sliding in lightly cupped Pam's pussy through her thin dress.

'Yes, young lady?'

'Y.. Yes.. Alright..' she stammered.

...

He was taking Pam off to teach Graham a lesson. A lesson in politeness and friendly behaviour.

Mr Carling told Pam this as they sat in his car. He had her coat completely unbuttoned now so that he could fondle her nice firm boobs. She didn't object to this of course.

...

Pam kissed him. She made it a nice sexy kiss, the kind of kiss Mr Forton at the office liked. Well, the kind Graham liked too of course. Pushing her tongue right into Mr Carling's mouth.

'That was lovely,' he said. 'Now what about a really nice kiss.'

He grinned... and unzipped his trousers. Then pulled out his erect cock. Red-faced, Pam glanced nervously around. Knowing what he wanted of course. He wanted her to suck it. But they were over in the corner of the car park and there was no one around. No one to see. So she did it. Lowering her head and taking it in her mouth.

The experienced old hand takes the young wife for a stay in his cottage. Poor Graham is sent regular videos of what they (and a few close friends) get up to, and it doesn’t just involve the cane (although there is plenty of that as well!)

 

The picture abruptly terminates, to be followed by the flickery grey light again. Is that all: that short piece of film? The video flickers on. Then... a voice from the blank screen. A man's disembodied voice: soft, caressing almost. The sentences spaced out.

'I wonder if that sweet pussy had a visitor last night?'

'Mmm? Do you wonder that? If it had a friendly visitor?'

She is standing with her hands at her sides in a white baby-doll nightie of silk or some similar material which clings to her ripely rounded figure. The nightie is virtually transparent and her firm, prominent boobs are especially in evidence, their pink nipples thrusting out, full, swollen it seems. As if perhaps someone has been playing with them. Sucking them maybe.

He waits. For the voice. For the voice to probe again. Like a surgeon's scalpel. He could turn the set off but of course he can't. Shortly it comes:

...

'Prime pussy.'

'And those really lovely tits too.'

'Yes, she's got something on now.'

'But maybe she's just put it on, eh? To be decent for the camera.'

'She really is lovely though.'

'But pretty girls can't be in bed all day, can they?'

'Even if they are having visitors.'

'Pretty girls do need... some discipline.'

'Now and then...'

There can be no doubt what is happening. Or has been happening. Because across the exposed flesh which swells tightly out on either side of the brief and half-transparent pants can be seen two cane marks. Two sets of bright red tram-lines.

The camera lingers on the view: the immobile girl; her obediently offered bottom. Then it cuts out. The blank flickering again.

Some seconds pass. Then the voice again:

'Oh yes. A little discipline.'

'If a girl has been at fault.'

'Disobedient.'

'Disobedient to a visitor perhaps?'

 

More blank flickering. Is that it?

No. The picture is suddenly there again. The same view. The same bedroom scene. But different of course. The girl's bottom more directly facing the camera. The brief pants have now been drawn down. So that what is facing is her completely nude bottom. And it is not only her bottom that is on view. In this position with her knees forward there is everything on view. A full view of her pussy. The pink slit in the auburn curls.

...

The picture cuts out. The flickering light. Running on. No voice this time. Then the picture again. The same view only now there is also a part-view of a man. His arm plus part of his torso. In a yellow sweater. His head is out of sight. But his hand... is at the girl's bottom. The girl who is in the same position with her pants down.

The hand slides over the smooth-fleshed buttocks... and then onto her pussy.

...

And that is the end. There is no more picture, no more voice. The tape runs blankly on and on. Until it comes to its end.

* * *

The note with that first video said he would receive a letter, but it is not a letter it is another video. A package by special delivery again the next morning which clearly contains a video. He feverishly opens it.

...

'I only sent you excerpts of course. Of that first video. You might not have wanted to see all of it. All the action. She was very good, though. Very cooperative as I say. So we had no problems.'

'But anyway, what you have now is my second effort. It's more complete, there's more continuous action. It's not fully complete of course. There is more action that I haven't sent. Action that perhaps you would not wish to see.' One of those smug chuckles again. 'You see I am a very sensitive person. I am concerned about people's feelings. Perhaps in contrast to yourself, Graham. With your rather rude dismissal of my friendly overtures. But I am sure you are learning. This film incidentally was taken by a good friend of mine who is staying with us here. He is very impressed with your Pam. Very taken with her.'

...

Mr Carling said she had to have the cane. He was going to send it to Graham. Video shots of Pam being caned. 'That's part of his lesson,' Mr Carling said. 'A nice painful lesson for him.'

Of course they could send shots of other action, Mr Carling said. Other action of Pam with himself and with Mr Mamforth, Mr Carling's friend who was staying with them at the cottage. Pam knew what action he meant and she couldn't possibly bear having that sent to Graham, not if she had any choice in the matter. So in that case... she had to take the cane.

 

Poor Graham! There was nothing he could do except accept his lesson. And suffer. He would know he had no choice but to accept what had happened.
'He won't be silly,' Mr Carling said. 'He's a silly young man but he's sensible enough to accept it and not make a fuss. If he tried anything silly he might never see his pretty Pam again. I could sell her off, to Arabs for instance. They would absolutely love her. Or perhaps the German trade. How about that?'
Pam gave a little yelp of fright. She was sure Graham would be sensible. And he knew she was alright. Safe and sound. He was getting the videos sent to him.

* * *

Mr Carling thought Graham would now have learnt his lesson. 'Oh I'm sure he has!' Pam exclaimed. 'Please!'

Mr Carling gave her a quizzical look. 'You're keen to get back then?'

'Yes! Yes! Well I... I love him. He's my husband... and we'd only been married for three weeks.'

Mr Carling said sardonically, 'So you don't want to be sold to the Arabs? Or some German contacts I have?' Pam shook her head. This time the tears did start. But he was only joking. 

Or is he? What would have happened if Pam had responded a little more favorably? Given that Mr Carling has no doubt done this in the past, have other young husbands founds themselves with extended, international Video Lessons?

 

 

So Mr Carling drove Pam back home, on the Saturday afternoon. She had been with him at the cottage for just over a week. At the flat she asked him if he wanted to come in, for a cup of tea. Mr Carling said yes, certainly. He would certainly accept their hospitality.

It was a little embarrassing of course. After Pam had given Graham a big, relieved hug. But it passed off alright. Mr Carling said he hoped there were no ill feelings. He intended to keep in touch. And he hoped to have Pam come and stay with him again from time to time. If that was alright. Graham said a somewhat unhappy 'Yes'.

They had the tea. It was time for Mr Carling to go. But maybe he thought Graham should have one more lesson. Not a video this time but real life action.

'Ah... you wouldn't mind if I took the lovely lady into the bedroom? For a few minutes. As we're all friends now.'

It was an effort but Graham managed a stammered, 'Noo... oo. That's OK.'

In the bedroom Mr Carling screwed Pam on the bed.

A lesson in politeness and friendly behavior indeed!
The cuckolding of Graham is even stronger than much of what you’d find on dedicated hotwife sites. Despite being determined to keep his wife to himself, he is powerless to stop her being enjoyed by the dominant older man. Humiliation and powerlessness are big factors in why I like spanking and cuckolding, and older, powerful men have much potential to explore these areas.
There’s also the hypocrisy of it: the elders have to be respected because they supposedly have better morals than the younger generation, and yet these lecherous old men are interested in nothing more than abusing their power in order to get their hands on the bottoms and bodies of young married women. It plays into the whole ‘unfairness’ aspect that is also a big turn-on for me. The young men are powerless before their ‘betters’, despite the fact that their betters have worse morals than they do!

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!