Lady Kavanagh sized up the situation in the way one might expect a well-educated woman to: she was not in control. What’s more, she was acutely aware of the fact!

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Are you mumbling, ma’am?” Asked her youthful chauffeur, at least 15 years her junior. He was standing directly behind her and, although she could not see him, she was certain he looked menacing.

“No”.

“Good. You don’t look so posh with your fat ass stuck in the air,” remarked her driver.

He took a step backwards, to admire his handiwork. He drank in the sight.

The socialite come community do-gooder was a vision to behold. High heels, nearly black high quality stockings, almost as high quality as the legs within them, he thought. Onwards and upwards, the magnificent pale skin of the backs of her upper legs and, finally, finally the sight of her magnificent bare, very full, glowing buttocks, accentuated totally, because these magnificent cheeks formed the highest point of the lovely luscious lady; the rest of her draped forward from the back of the opulent sofa, her hands and the top of her head resting on one of the seat cushions.

The chauffeur, a pair of her ladyship’s knickers in his left hand, an 18” wooden ruler in the other and an erection straining at his zipper, contemplated his options.

Total humiliation was his goal, but he wasn’t completely sure how much this woman would take before she decided that the price was too high to pay. He had to be careful. He knew he could spank her: that was the deal. Beyond that, he wasn’t certain.

For her part, the good lady would do whatever it took to prevent this lowlife alerting her husband to the fact that she had performed fellatio on his own brother, the Earl of Mulberry. She couldn’t deny it because there was a photograph in existence. Until she had that photograph, she was fucked, although not literally, she hoped!

So far, she was playing her cards as best as she could. She had told her chauffeur that there were certain acts she would not perform under any circumstances, and so far, he seemed to believe her. She prayed that his belief would last.

“It would break his Lordship’s heart,” she had told Adams a day earlier, when the two of them were seated in the drawing room. “You won’t be doing him any favours by telling him. I had an arrangement with his brother and I was paying off the last instalment when you decided to be so fucking opportunistic with your bloody camera phone. You should have been cleaning the Rolls!”

“His Lordship has been good to me,” Adams had replied. Fuck the old coot, he secretly thought. “If he doesn’t know about this you will get off scot free”.

“Scot free!” She shrieked. Do you really think I enjoyed sucking the old fools penis?”

Adams smirked. Rich educated bitches almost always said penis. He wondered what she called a penis when it was choking her.

“That was, it seems to me, your choice, milady,” Adams intoned. “You should be made to pay in some way. At least if you pay some forfeit or other I won’t feel so guilty if I don’t tell him. After all, you were sucking your brother in law’s dick!”

Whether there was a lusty look in Adams’s eyes, or pure perception on her part, she was not sure; however, this was going no further if she could help it, not in the cock sucking department anyway.

“Well, I won’t be sucking yours, you silly little man and, what’s more, you won’t be doing anything with it either. If that’s your ultimatum, you will have to tell him. It will break his heart, I have already told you that, but I would rather take my chances with his Lordship than bow down to your grubby little blackmail.” Her heart stopped. She knew he had her, she knew she would do anything, anything at all.

“I haven’t even suggested that, but, I’m intrigued. Why did you suck that old fools cock and yet you won’t mine. I’m younger than him, better looking and, from what I saw; my cock is far superior.”

“Ladies do not suck their servants cocks; period. Not under any circumstances!” The venom in her voice surprised Adams. Here was a class bitch if ever there was one. This was now a challenge. By hook or by crook, I will have my cock in her mouth, he determined. The question was how. He had to solve the puzzle.

“Then what do you suggest?” He asked. Slowly, slowly, catch a monkey, he thought.

Adams didn’t realise, didn’t have the confidence or acumen to believe he had her totally. He really did believe there was a line she wouldn’t cross. He didn’t realise that all he had to do was to order her to her knees and instruct her to unzip his flies and start sucking and she would have done exactly that.

“I have already told you. It is none of your business. We will forget the matter and you might think yourself lucky I don’t ask my husband to dismiss you from service.” Overconfident? She hoped not. Her superior breeding would best this peasant, of this she was sure.

This is getting away from me, thought the driver. Bloody hell. Here was a woman who had sucked her husband’s brother’s cock, I have the evidence, and she is acting as if she’s in bloody control! Get a grip man, get a grip, he thought to himself.

“Then you leave me no choice. I will present the photograph to his Lordship when I pick him up from the airport next week.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“I will. You leave me no choice.”

“What, exactly do you expect me to do by way of, what did you call it?” She remembered, “Forfeit. I am prepared to offer you a price for the photograph. Provided it is a realistic price, mind you.” Once she had that photograph, he could go and fuck himself as far as she was concerned.

“This isn’t about money my lady. This is about atonement. Your husband is ignorant about your, er, misdeeds,” he smirked. “You must pay a penalty so I, at least, will be happy with the fact that your husband shall remain ignorant”.

“What penalty,” she asked. This was like a game of bloody tennis, she thought. I’ve already told you I will n...”

“I am not asking you to.” He interjected. This was it, all or nothing. “I propose corporal punishment. Nothing more nothing less. No negotiation. Yes or no. It is your choice.”

“Corporal punishment?”

“That’s what I said.”

“What, exactly, do you mean by corporal punishment?”

“Look in the dictionary, ma’am.”

“I know perfectly well what the term means. I am just doubtful that you do.”

“Physical punishment, in your case on the ass.”

“The what? What with?”

His heart leapt. She hadn’t discounted it! She was talking about it. Her ass was his, of that he was increasingly certain. He just needed to find a way of getting his dick into it!

“Anything of my choosing. The only guarantee I will give you is that you will not be permanently marked; indeed when his lordship returns next week, any marks you might have had as a result of your spanking will have faded to the extent that he will not notice them.” He placed particular emphasise on the word spanking.

“Do you really think I am going to let you spank me?”

“It is your decision. I have said enough. You have two hours to make up your mind. You know the consequences. I will be cleaning the motor car, so you know where you can find me. If, after two hours, you do not give me a decision I will assume your answer to be no and I will act accordingly.”

Adams stood up and turned on his heels and made ready to leave the mansion’s drawing room. His cock was stiffening and he knew he couldn’t turn around again as it would betray him to.

“But....”

“I have said enough. Period!” He quipped, looking over his shoulder. He enjoyed the word “period,” after having to endure that very word himself a short time ago. This wasn’t quite the finish he would have wished for, but his cock wouldn’t stop growing. He had to make his leave.

90minutes into the two hours and he was still certain she would come. By Christ, he would have come if he had not got out of that room. The car was almost cleaned.

The truth was, the lady was a beauty: an absolute peach. That description included the shape of her ass! He had seen her in a bikini on several occasions. He was disappointed when he discovered she never sunbathed topless; even more disappointed when she refused to get fashionable with bikini thong bottoms. No, hers were full at the back. Too bloody full, he thought. Far too much material. In defence, he smiled, there was much ass to cover!

Middle thirties he guessed, childless, although stepmother to the two brats. A full figure, voluptuous: Jane Mansfield, but with bigger tits was a good description! Blonde hair, although he was doubtful it was natural. How he itched to find out. What he wouldn’t give for a sight of her bush!

The front door opened and she started to walk across the gravel towards the car, all tits and hips. Tight blue jeans, sandals, bare painted toes poking out, figure revealing white blouse, tied at her belly button, bra underneath as always. That would change soon if he had his way.

“May I appeal to your better nature Adams?” Her voice was pleading, her face was actually blushing. She was deeply embarrassed to be seemingly under the control of one of her servants. Standing there, facing him, she felt even smaller than her 5’5”.

“It is my better nature that is prepared just to tan your ass and not tell on you,” Adams retorted. “Have you forgotten that?”

“Very well. Let’s get this over with. Go and get the picture and I want to see you destroy the one on your phone and I must have your absolute word that you won’t retain another,” she blustered. She wanted this to be over. Finished: as soon as possible.

“I’m busy at the moment. You will have to wait”. He was going to savour this. Let her wait.

“Huh” She snorted. “It was a waste of time me putting these jeans on then.”

Adams burst into laughter. “Do you really think I am going to spank you over your jeans? No, that won’t do at all. Let me make it clear. I am going to spank your bare buttocks. Then he added for good measure: “M’Lady.”

“I can assure you, you will do no such thing!”

“You win. I won’t. What I will do is give my employer, your husband, the photograph I have, that, just to remind you, shows you on your knees, gnawing at your brother in law’s boner.” Adams was beginning to enjoy himself.

“Alright, alright.” She was almost crying now. Her fight gone. “You can spank me,” she whined.

“It’s too late for that. You had your chance, you blew it.” Adams smiled at the not very good double entendre.

“What do you mean?” Lady Kavanagh asked, wiping away what was the start of tears.

“When I left the drawing room, I said no negotiation. You have been negotiating ever since.”

“But I just said you could , could,...spank me”.

“You do not seem to understand Lady Kavanagh. It is not your decision. It is my decision. I have decided to show your husband the picture.”

The good lady was beside herself. “Please, please, please don’t.” She whimpered.

“If I don’t, what do you suggest is an appropriate punishment for you, you naughty girl?”

The bastard was going to make her beg to be spanked, she realised. This situation was going from bad to worse. “You should s-s-s-spank me,” she whispered.

“Spank you where?”

“In the drawing room?” She couldn’t understand her attempt at humour. It was probably because she was delaying saying the word ‘bottom’ out loud to him. The humiliation of the situation was beginning to engulf her.

“Your insolence doesn’t become you, Lady Kavanagh.”

“On my bottom.” Spitting out those words was harder than she thought.

“Are you asking me to spank you on the bottom, your ladyship?”

“Yes.”

“What items of clothing do you think you should wear over your bottom whilst this spanking takes place?”

“None.” She knew this was the only answer in town that would satisfy this smug arsehole.

“Are you asking me to spank you on your bare bottom?”

“You know I am.”

“Then ask me. And be quick about!”

Would he show no mercy, she thought. “Will you spank me on my bare bottom?” There. She had said it.

“Where are your manners Lady Kavanagh? Don’t you ever say please when you want something?”

Was this ever going to end? “Please will you spank me on my bottom bare, please?” She was nervous now, really nervous, even to the extent of mixing her words up.

Adams didn’t seem to notice. “Hmmm, how many times do you think I should spank you?”

“I, I, I, I don’t know,” she implored.

“Nor do I. I guess how many times depends on the size of your ass.” Adams was as hard as a rock. If she glanced down she couldn’t fail to notice. He didn’t give a shit.

“What. What do you mean?”

“The bigger your ass, the more area to be covered. Let’s face it, you have got a big ass.”

“No I have not!” she said indignantly. “You have never seen it. It’s not big.”

“Well if it’s not big, it must be fat.”

“It most certainly is not fat!” How dare he suggest she has a fat ass. As her husband often told her, she had buttocks any man would die for.

“Ok, we’ll decide this once and for all. Turn around so I can take a look.”

“What?”

“You heard.”

Where is this leading, she wondered. Her embarrassment was returning, it having temporarily left her when he had the temerity to insult her buttocks. She took a deep breath, preparing to turn round as requested, instructed was a better word she realised. She lowered her eyes. It was then she saw his erection, through his trousers.

For an instant she froze. She didn’t know whether to say anything or not. The bastard was enjoying this, but why should that surprise her. She turned around.

There she stood. Guessing what was likely to happen next, but hoping against hope she was wrong.

“I’m waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“You know perfectly well what.”

“Not here, please not here. Not in the open. What about the gardener?”

“You want me to call the gardener over?”

“No. No. What if he sees?”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

"I’ve had enough of this. If those jeans are not around your ankles by the time I count to ten, this conversation finishes."

“But, but, the gardener.”

“You are very trying, Lady Kavanagh. Seeing as you are so concerned about the gardener, you can go and get him."

“What? What do you mean?”

“I have decided that he can be the judge of how many times I whack your ass. The old bastard will enjoy it. Go and get him. If you’re not back in ten minutes, you know what I will do.”

“What if I can’t find him?”

“Can’t find him? You rule him with a rod of iron. You even gave him a mobile so you could make certain he wasn’t slacking. Go and get him. I won’t tell you again.”

Lady Kavanagh made her way back along the gravel drive towards the mansion. She would pick up her phone just in case she couldn’t sight the employee. She was also unsure whether to change her under clothing. If she put on a thong, she reasoned, there would be no need to take it off when they inspected her rear end. Her buttocks would be bare, which she didn’t like one bit, but Adams would have no need to make her take it off. This would ensure her bush remained concealed.

Whilst she was changing her attire, she rang Peters, the gardener.

“Peters, come to the mansion at once. Stop whatever it is you’re doing and come at once.”

The gardener pressed the red button on the phone to turn it off.

“Of course, Lady Muck. Whatever you say, Lady Muck. Straight away, Lady Muck.” Peters retorted to the disconnected phone. He had a simple view of his employer’s wife: she was a stuck up bitch who needed a good fucking up the ass. And Peters was just the man to do it!

He wiped his brow, settled his spade down and made for the mansion.

Lady Kavanagh, watching the gardener’s ever increasing figure approach her, mulled over the situation. It was the control she was losing that hurt the most. She had to remain in some sort of control! She was not used to being told what to do, especially by subordinates. She decided attack was the only option.

“Peters, what I am about to say may surprise you somewhat. I have done something I am deeply ashamed of, what it is doesn’t concern you, suffice to say I have instructed Adams to punish me. I have decided that the punishment shall consist of a spanking on my rear end, which will be bare whilst the punishment is being metered out.."

“Now”, she continued, “it is your task to decide how many strokes I should receive. So, we will go and see Adams, consult with him and then you can make your decision. Have I made myself clear?”

Peters stared at her, mouth agape. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“Well?”

“Yes my Lady. Adams is gonna spank your bare arse and I get to decide how many times.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite as crudely as that, but that is the gist of the matter. Now, one other thing, when we meet Adams it might seem to you that he is the one doing the ordering. It seems that my instructions have gone slightly to his head; however I don’t want to dampen his enthusiasm. Just so as you are clear, Peters, Adams is operating under my instructions, whatever it might seem like to you. Do you understand?”

“Whatever you say, my lady.” Adams didn’t give a shit. He was going to see this rich bitch’s bare arse. Close up and personal.

As they approached Adams, Lady Kavanagh, in order to keep up the pretence, addressed him in the same curt way she always did. “Adams, I have brought Peters so that you may discuss the terms of my punishment.”

Adams, slightly taken aback by her new found confidence, looked at her and then the gardener. “I know that. I told you go and get him.”

Her ladyship, winking conspiratorially at the gardener, answered with a nod.

“Has her ladyship explained the situation, Bob?”

“Yes. I’m to inspect the target area. Anything else I should know?”

“Only that there mustn’t be any evidence by Tuesday.”

”That’s correct,” interjected Lady Kavanagh. “Now gentlemen, please don’t be embarrassed, but I need to remove my jeans in order for you to fulfil your tasks.”

Lady Kavanagh walked three paces from the two men, from the gravel to the grass, kicked off her sandals and with barely a pause, slipped her jeans down. They stopped around her ankles and she then kicked them off.

The men drew in a collective breath. Lady Kavanagh’s posterior was simply magnificent. Peters, never slow when it came to whit, had his mobile out and was covertly using the photograph features. This was his passport to heaven if he played his cards right. Spitting image of that Samantha Janus’ arse in that film, he thought. What was it called?

Adams, whilst staring at the upper class buttocks, realised that his regard for the woman had started to rise. A sneaking admiration for the way she was dealing with the situation she found herself in was forming in his mind.

For her part, Lady Eleanor Kavanagh, 5 th Duchess of Romney, was hardly able to keep still. She was only just able to stop herself from screaming. She was beginning to understand what humiliation was all about. The thought of the men standing behind her, staring at her bare buttocks, made her feel quite ill.

“So Peters, how many strokes you think?” She ventured. Her voice weak, far weaker than she expected or wanted it to be.

Adams, shaking himself from his reverie, joined in. “Yes Bob, it’s decision time. How many?”

“It depends. I really need to inspect the target area for texture and tone. May I ma’am?”

“Yes, you may,” interjected Adams.

Realising her pretence was over as soon as Adams overruled her, Lady Kavanagh agreed, rather too heartily. “What a good idea.”

Peters pounced, two long steps, on his haunches, eye line level with her ass, nose no more than an inch from those stupendous double orbs. Perfect flesh, he decided. He opened his hands and placed them on her ass, one cheek a hand, thumbs almost touching in the middle.

Peters started to kneed the flesh, up and down, up and down.

“Please don’t make it wobble,“ she pleaded. Her embarrassment was rising to a crescendo.

Adams watched, mesmerised. This was his blackmail, yet it was Peters who was getting hands full of ass. Watching her ass wobble was almost hypnotic. His erection was huge and straining his zipper once more.

Peters looked back and winked at Adams. “The way I see it, if it mustn’t be marked for very long it will have to be a hand spanking for the most part. Then I suggest a ruler, say 18 inches, for, let’s see....touch your toes your ladyship and keep your legs straight and together...for now”

Eleanor meekly did as requested. Never in her life had she been so grateful for the thong she was wearing. It seemed the ruse had worked. If she had been naked from the waist down, her sex might well now be on display. She had heavy buttocks, true, but her sex might have been peeping out. She was unsure, but this wasn’t a surprise. She had never seen herself in this position, she realised.

The ‘for now’ part of the instruction caused her some consternation. Did he mean she would eventually have to spread her legs? The thought terrified her, although she took some comfort from her thong, although it was hardly Fort Knox.

“I’ve nearly decided,” pronounced Peters, looking back again at Adams. The older man recognised the bulge in the younger’s trousers. “Mmm, 18 inch ruler or 8 inches of meat,” he smirked. “I’ve nearly finished my inspection, ma’am. I need you to move your feet about three feet apart and keep touching the ground with your fingers.”

“Is this really necessary. I’m getting very uncomfortable. Surely you can decide how many strokes without keeping me down here any longer.”

“Do as he says,” instructed Adams, “or I will double whatever number he gives.”

Lady Kavanagh did as ordered. Now she was truly glad of the thong. Her sex would have definitely been on display to these two perverts, possibly her anus too.

Peters stepped back, level with Adams. “What do you think?” asked the younger man.

“12 to 24, depending on how her rump marks up.”

“So it’s a suck it and see approach is it?”

Peters grinned.

“You have been very good Lady Kavanagh and have shown remarkable fortitude,” Adams stated. “Your ordeal will soon be over, or at least this stage of it will be. Now, I wish to give you warning that how you handle the next few minutes will be a barometer, as it were, as to your future. I command that you stay in position.”

With that he stepped forward, beckoning Peters with him.

She saw them coming, although they were upside down. The humiliation, the dread, welled up inside her. What was this lowlife going to do. She feared the worst and she almost stood upright and ran, but she found she was rooted to the spot; her fear of her husband’s wrath more acute than her current condition.

Adams put a forefinger underneath the top part of the thong string just above where the cleavage of her buttocks started. The string, she knew, was her protection from prying eyes, the only thing in existence that kept her treasures under wraps.

“No, please no. I beg you. Not that. Haven’t you put me through enough shame?" She was crying openly now. She still didn’t move.

Slowly, slowly, Adams simultaneously lowered his finger and moved it to the left, resulting in the string leaving its comfortable position between the lady’s ass cheeks, exposing secrets he had never, even in his wildest dreams, expected to see. Her Ladyship’s anus came into view and they drank in the sight. Slowly, slowly, further down and the ultimate discovery was theirs.

“Your Ladyship?” questioned Adams.

“What?” She sobbed.

“The gardener and I can see your cunt.”