Roger Benson, “Bare Bottomed at Birchwell” Chapter 10: Darling Daughter’s Discipline

Bare Bottomed at Birchwell by Roger Benson, 1962

With selected drawings by Miss Fran

Edited by Mrs. Angie Heart

Published by Bared Affair Publications

Chapter 10: Darling Daughter’s Discipline

Readers of the prior episode of this series will recall the excerpts presented from the Summer 1962 issue of Discipline Digest, a Consolidated Publishing production edited by Billy Hackmore, the world famous reporter and writer on domestic discipline matters. The specific story was based on a most interesting letter from Mrs. Grace Barrett of Victoria, Canada, in which she described the strict but loving disciplinary practices she used with her nineteen-year-old daughter, April – a shy, sensitive, and quite lovely girl.

In the concluding section of her letter, Mrs. Barrett observed, “Apart from the periodic spankings, I find the only discipline darling April requires is an occasional enema.”

Mr. Hackmore, not surprisingly, received letters of appreciation and commendation from mothers across the United States and Canada for his having presented such a morally uplifting tale. Many of these mothers also expressed great interest in learning more about the “additional” disciplinary practices Mrs. Barrett had only hinted at. An editor as experienced and astute as Billy Hackmore was not about to miss a golden opportunity for a fascinating follow-up piece.

Accordingly, he telephoned Miss Fran, who had produced the illustration for the original story, and enquired if she might be interested in contacting Mrs. Barrett with the end in view (no pun intended!) of doing another illustration of dear April and also gathering some additional information for a further story.

As luck would have it, the freelance illustrator was planning a business trip to Seattle, Washington which was only a short additional airplane trip from Victoria, Canada. Miss Fran, an attractive and accomplished woman in her late thirties, contacted Mrs. Barrett by telephone and rapidly established a cordial rapport. A visit to the Barrett home in Victoria was quickly arranged and resulted in another illustration and story destined for the Fall edition of Discipline Digest.

Illustration by Miss Fran.

Billy Hackmore entitled the piece “Darling Daughter’s Discipline” and, in his introductory remarks, said he was presenting the article with “a tip of the Hackmore hat to Miss Fran, superb illustrator and whiz reporter!”

In the article, Mrs. Barrett observed, “When I decide that it would be helpful or necessary that my darling daughter April be subjected to an enema, I always precede the treatment with a sound, bare-bottom hairbrush spanking.

“Then I march my sobbing daughter to the third floor bathroom. Typically, the girl is wearing only a snug fitting, short-sleeved sweater and bra above her waist and, below the waist, her garter belt, sheer nylon stockings, and spike-heeled pumps.

“The bathroom in question is quite large and equipped with a long, rather narrow white metal table that I require April to lie on – face down, of course! I always take April’s temperature before administering the enema and, after applying a light coating of Vaseline to Mr. Thermometer’s ‘business end,’ I gently introduce him into April’s girlishly plump, freshly spanked bottom.

“Naturally, as a big girl in nylons and high heels, April finds this procedure quite humiliating. However, she has also confided to me that it makes her feel like a child who is truly loved and cared for.

“After he has had five minutes thoroughly enjoying the delightful hospitality of April’s nubile nether portions, I withdraw Mr. Thermometer, read him, wipe him off, and then return him to his home – an alcohol filled glass in the medicine cupboard. Then I put on my rubber glove and once again taking up the tube of Vaseline, I proceed to give April’s ‘inner bottom’ a gentle but lengthy lubrication.

“I then prepare a glass pitcher with sixteen ounces of lukewarm water and proceed to add two level tablespoons of Ivory Snow soap flakes (renown for their gentle purity) and stir the mixture until a milky consistency has been achieved.

“Dear April always whimpers and gasps very prettily when Mr. Nozzle (with his attached red rubber tube and plastic funnel) is inserted. I usually pat her well-spanked bottom gently and tell her not to fret so and to keep her gluteal muscles nicely relaxed.”

Present for the Procedure

As it happens, Miss Fran was present during the procedure – which took some time because Mrs. Barrett kept pausing during her administration of the enema to discuss various fine points of discipline and behavior with her darling daughter. When the last of the solution had finally been delivered to its destination, Mrs. Barrett removed the nozzle and proceeded to insert a professionally designed red rubber retention plug in her delectable daughter’s delicious derriere.

Then Mrs. Barrett and Miss Fran left a tearful and squirmy April to her no doubt repentant thoughts and proceeded to the attractively-appointed living room to enjoy a cup of tea and a slice of a delicious cake April had baked the day before to show her appreciation of Miss Fran’s visit.

After about half an hour, Mrs. Barrett glanced at her watch and pleasantly asked to be excused so she might go and “attend to her daughter’s needs.” Miss Fran smiled cordially at the departing woman and then occupied herself with refining the rough sketch she had prepared while she was in the third floor bathroom. She had found April an excellent subject and reflected on how enjoyable it would be to sketch the girl in a number of other situations – which Miss Fran’s fertile mind was already contemplating!

After about 20 minutes, Mrs. Barrett reappeared, this time accompanied by her daughter April. Although the girl had managed to stop crying, her cheeks were scarlet with humiliation and she was hanging her pretty head in shame. One of the reasons for the girl’s state was immediately obvious. Below the waist, apart from her off-white elastic garter belt, sheer, tan-hued nylon stockings, and glossy black patent leather spike-heeled pumps, she was wearing only a pair of absolutely skin-fitting glossy black rubber panties.

“I always have April wear a pair of these panties after an enema session,” Mrs. Barrett explained pleasantly. “Four pairs of them were kindly supplied to me by a lady friend at the bridge club. She has a sister who works as a matron at the Wilkie Road Home for Delinquent Girls.”

“How delightful,” Miss Fran responded, a cool smile animating her attractive features. “They match her pumps perfectly. Very fashionable.”

“I always want April to look her best, regardless of the circumstances,” Mrs. Barrett observed sagely. “I do not hold with these ‘sloppy joe’ sweaters and blue jeans. Why, I once gave April an after-church spanking when she was still wearing her hat and gloves!” Mrs. Barrett added with a good-natured chuckle.

“Your daughter is an excellent subject,” Miss Fran observed lightly. “I wonder if I might do a little sketch of her modeling her special panties?”

Certainly, Mrs. Barrett responded enthusiastically, telling her daughter that it was such a nice compliment. “I thought I’d do a rear view,” Miss Fran continued. “She should be looking back over her shoulder, legs held closely together, the left one bent slightly at the knee.”

“Very good,” Mr. Barrett responded. “April, assume that position. Now, please.”

Reluctantly but obediently, April complied, the tears slowly trickling down her shame red cheeks. Miss Fran whipped out her sketchbook and began to work with quick, confident strokes. She enquired pleasantly of Mrs. Barrett if April had a boyfriend.

“Oh, yes indeed. A nice, quiet, bespectacled young man,” her mother replied. “He’s completing his studies at college to become a reference librarian. His name is Herbert Goodenough.”

“Perhaps we should send Herbert a copy of this illustration when it’s finished,” Miss Fran suggested with a smile. Mrs. Barrett gave a merry chortle while a shuddering April stifled a poignant gasp of horror!

Dungeon Damsels’ Dire Distress

The roots of corporal punishment run deep in English society. Examples abound. On the literary side, the Nineteenth Century figure, “Colonel Spanker” presented his prolific writings at the Society of Aristocratic Flagellants. On the public activism side, Eric Wildman, Esquire, did yeoman work in the 1950s as President of the National Society for the Retention of Corporal Punishment and the Corpun Educational Association.

And, as readers of the Birchwell Saga will have divined, these roots run most deeply in the privileged classes of that Sceptered Isle. Basil Warpington is an excellent example. As eldest son of Sir Trevor Warpington – a hereditary peer – he would in the fullness of time inherit his father’s elevated title. Until that day, he pursued a pleasant life ensured by his substantial trust fund, his activities as a noted society photographer, and his “special photographic projects” for his “very special clients” – persons who occupied positions of wealth and high responsibility.

Indeed, as we will recall, Miss Webster had permitted Basil to take photographs of lovely Lorna Jane and pretty Patsy during the “Miss Spanked Teenager” event – her only condition being that he would place a black bar over their eyes to conceal their identity, not that two innocents from abroad would likely mean anything to Warpington’s high born clientele!

As it happens, some months earlier, a titled woman of considerable means approached Mr. Warpington with an interesting proposition. Specifically, she was prepared to do two things. The first of these was to provide the funds necessary to produce a 16mm film that would deal with the cautionary tale of two shapely and attractive small town English girls coming to London in the naive hope of embarking on cinema careers. Alas, the girls would quickly fall under the influence of the wrong sort of company (wicked “Teddy Boys”, to be specific) and soon find themselves on the wrong side of the law. The second offer the titled woman made was the use of her large country house, the lowermost level of which was equipped with a most convincing dungeon!

Needless to say, Mr. Warpington enthusiastically accepted the proposal and started to investigate possibilities for how best to proceed by consulting with his contacts in London’s infamous Soho district. It wasn’t long before he located two pretty and exceptionally shapely nineteen-year-old girls: one Dawn Grayson and one Annie Walker. When not supporting themselves with copy typing and waitress jobs, the two lassies were posing for “glamour magazines” in the hope that their appealing assets would come to the attention of some famous movie producer who would give them that much needed “break”!

Not surprisingly, both girls jumped at Basil Warpington’s offer.

The film, of course, was intended for circulation only among a very select group of people. It was doubtless because of this that he found that various members of his social circle were enthusiastically interested in appearing in the opus provided they wore domino masks to protect their anonymity. Thus, His Lordship Justice Bleary agreed to play the elevated jurist who would sentence the two naughty girls to their dreadful dungeon date! Miss Frobisher was delighted to play the role of dungeon mistress, particularly after she viewed some – shall we say – rather revealing photographs of Dawn and Annie that showed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that both teeners were “well reared girls”!

“Dungeon Damsels’ Dire Distress” was shot in two weeks with a hand held 16mm camera. In addition, Dawn and Annie’s acting talents proved to be largely limited to an exceptional ability to wiggle their shapely bottoms in a highly appealing way. Despite these limitations, the film turned out to be a rather good productions for several reasons. First, Mr. Warpington was unquestionably a skilled photographer with a remarkable feel for the genre. Second, he had the ability to create during the filming unexpected situations that neither Dawn nor Annie could possibly anticipate. The result was that, on several delicious occasions, he captured the girls exhibiting real fear. Finally, the dungeon in the country house of Lady “X” was a fascinating piece of authentic history well worth recording on film.

The cinema camera was not equipped with a soundtrack capability so a parallel tape recording was made. Some of this consisted of “voice-over” commentaries by participants in the production such as Lord Justice Bleary. In other cases, mournful and eerie music was played, very much in keeping with the gloomily sinister setting. Finally – and perhaps most interesting – were the sobs and shrieks of Dawn and Annie as “Dungeon Mistress” Frobisher put them through their paces!

The plot was simple. The opening shots featured Dawn and Annie – attractively outfitted in tight skirts and sweaters, sheer nylon stockings and high spike-heeled pumps, juke box dancing at a coffee bar with two handsome, but disreputable looking “Teddy Boys.” The action moved briskly to an after dark scene where the two girls – their clothing in utter disarray – were in their boyfriends’ autocar doing very, very naughty things!

The scenario moved on to an isolated petrol station, where one of the two Teddy Boys requested a “fill up” from the elderly attendant. Then the two lads walked into the office with the old gentleman who they promptly struck with a cosh – the quaint English word for a blackjack. Walking over his crumpled form, the wicked pair proceeded to loot the cash register.

The highly efficient Metropolitan London Police – known both by villains and law abiding citizens as “The Met” – was soon on the job and quickly rounded up the evildoers. Quite predictably, the girls soon found themselves – wearing only their garter belts, charcoal-hued nylon stockings, and spike-heeled pumps – incarcerated in the grim dungeon to await the stern penalty for their crimes!

A number of highly entertaining scenes of well-deserved corporal punishments ensued. In one particularly innovative segment, Dawn and Annie – wearing only their garter belts, stockings, and pumps – were outfitted as “pony girls” and required to trot about the spacious grounds pulling a light trap occupied by a switch-wielding, domino-masked Miss Frobisher.

In the final scene of the film, shot just after dark, a long, black, official-looking automobile pulled into the main drive of the massive country house. A liveried driver jumped out to open the rear door. A tall, thin man, wearing a black suit and hat and carrying a black leather satchel, emerged from the vehicle, and slowly made his way toward the building to visit the two delectable dungeon damsels who would now pay the penalty for their delinquent dalliance!

To celebrate the completion of this opus and to honor her good friend, Basil Warpington, Miss Webster arranged a special “premiere showing” at Birchwell. The “guests of honor”, of course, were Mr. Warpington and his lady friend, Miss Fiona Windsor, a debutante of great beauty and social position. Also present were Lord Justice Bleary, Lord and Lady Leechmore, Colonel Canewell (ret.) OBE, the Reverend Goodsoul and, of course, the ever-present Miss Frobisher.

After the guests had been seated in comfortable chairs, they were served flutes of champagne by Miss Webster’s maids, Shirley and Marie. Both girls had been specially outfitted for this gala affair. Wearing only their garter belts, sheer nylon stockings, and spike heeled pumps, the two blushing servants had been attired in their white maid’s caps, little white gloves, and ridiculously tiny white aprons. Their pretty mouths had been sealed with wide strips of white adhesive tape on which, as a nuance in discipline, Miss Frobisher had used lipstick to apply two juicy little smiles that contrasted dramatically with the girls’ wide, frightened eyes.

On either side of Miss Webster’s comfortable chair, there was an armless, straight backed, hard wooden chair utterly lacking adornment. The Mistress of Birchwell now rang a small Georgian silver bell. Immediately, the door to an anteroom opened and Mrs. Cranny, Birchwell’s discipline-minded cook, ushered in lovely Lorna Jane and pretty Patsy.

The girls had been stripped to their bras, panties, garter belts, sheer nylon stockings, and spike-heeled pumps. Both were silenced with red rubber ball gags tightly strapped in place. Their wrists had been tied behind their backs and cords wound around their upper torsos kept their arms in place.

“I believe that, with the exception of Miss Windsor, you all know Welworthy and Maidenly,” Miss Webster observed crisply. “Girls, I would like to introduce Miss Fiona Windsor who was presented at the palace last year.”

Illustration by Roger Benson.

Fortunately for the sake of their ripely curved behinds, Lorna Jane and Patsy remembered to curtsey in the most servile fashion imaginable. Miss Windsor inspected them coolly, a faint smile playing at the corners of her aristocratic lips.

Mrs. Cranny then ushered Lorna Jane and Patsy to their hard wooden seats. Lorna Jane sat on Miss Webster’s left while Patsy was on the imperious woman’s right. She then placed her fingers under the girls’ chins and tilted their heads up toward the silver screen. “Watch carefully, girls, and do not dare to avert your eyes for even a second,” was the older woman’s unambiguous command.

The lights dimmed and the film began. By the time the dungeon scenes began in earnest, both girls had tears trickling down their cheeks and beads of perspiration percolating on their foreheads. “Silence!” Miss Webster whispered loudly when poor Patsy had the temerity to utter a poignant, gag-stifled whimper.

A Hearty Toast

When the frightening film finally ended, the lights were turned up and Miss Webster invited her guests to an adjacent reception room where flutes of champagne and other refreshments were served.

Miss Frobisher approached Lorna Jane and Patsy and advised the girls that, although they would remain bound and gagged, they were to join the reception, mingle, and engage in “polite social exchange” with the other guests. Miss Frobisher also made it clear that she would be observing and assessing their performance!

To be frank, the girls were not at their best. Their eyes were red-rimmed from crying, beads of perspiration still decorated their foreheads, saliva dripped from their chins (a consequence of the horrid ball gags), and their panties had ridden up considerably as they squirmed their way through the distressing film.

The two girls kept side by side for moral support as they stood haplessly in the reception room. Basil Warpington approached, glass of champagne in hand and his lady friend, Miss Windsor, beside him. “Did you girls enjoy the film?” he enquired genially.

“Mmmmppphhggg!” Lorna Jane and Patsy responded, energetically nodding their heads in affirmation as Miss Frobisher watched approvingly.

“You know, girls,” Fiona Windsor observed in her aristocratic drawl, “you’d be much more fashionable if your lipstick matched your gags.” She then took Mr. Warpington by the arm and led him off to more interesting company.

Colonel Canewell now approached the hapless duo. “You girls don’t know any of these Teddy Boys, do you?” he enquired in his crisply enunciated Parade Ground tones.

“Mmmmmpphhhgggg!” Lorna Jane and Patsy chorused, nodding their heads in the sincerest negation possible.

“Jolly good!” the colonel responded enthusiastically. “Rotters! Every man Jack of them! Wouldn’t have ’em in The Regiment!” The highly decorated veteran then wandered off in search of more Bollinger.

Lorna Jane now emitted a high-pitched, gag-stifled squeal and hopped from spike-heeled pump to spike-heeled pump as she turned to face an avuncular Lord Justice Bleary – who had just indulged his passion for bottom-pinching!

“Good show, girly!” he announced in a booming voice. “I feared your bottom might have fallen asleep sitting on that hard chair!”

Miss Webster now secured everyone’s attention by tapping the side of her champagne flute with a silver teaspoon. “My dear friends,” the woman began in her cultured voice, “it is a singular pleasure to receive you at Birchwell. I shall now call upon Lord Justice Bleary to give the toast.” The corpulent jurist took up a commanding position in the center of the room.

“Harumphh!” he commenced with his usual indication that he was about to speak and that silence and close attention were expected. “Our good friend Basil Warpington has done a great service in turning his unique photographical talents to the making of the excellent film we have just been privileged to see. As I have frequently observed in The High Court, the Teddy Boy menace is the gravest threat this Sceptered Isle has faced since we thrashed those Nazi blighters! And we shall thrash these young louts just as thoroughly! I propose a toast: to Our Gracious Sovereign, to England’s green and pleasant land, and to Mr. Basil Warpington!”

Crystal glasses clinked, champagne was sipped, and murmured approvals of “jolly good” and “hear, hear” filled the room.

For poor Lorna Jane and Patsy, it seemed as if the reception would never end. At one point, the Reverend Goodsoul backed them into a corner and in his high-pitched voice, punctuated with giggles and titters, regaled his reluctant but obedient audience of two with his innovative theories on the mortification of the flesh! Even worse, half way through his diatribe, he was joined by Lady Leechmore who, to Lorna Jane and Patsy’s wide-eyed, tear-glazed consternation, added her own unique views.

At last, the girls were excused from the gathering and were marched back to their private bedrooms by the steely-eyed Miss Frobisher. As she released their bonds, the girls heaved sighs of relief, particularly when they were ungagged.

“I hope you both learned a good lesson by watching the movie tonight, girls,” said Miss Frobisher. Both Lorna Jane and Patsy nodded with alacrity.

“Good,” she said. “I would hate to have you mingle with the Teddy Boy crowd and end up in a judicial dungeon.” But the peculiar smile that played on the woman’s lips made the girls wonder if Miss Frobisher was disclosing her true feelings on the matter!


Continue reading – Bare Bottomed at Birchwell Chapter 11: The Sorrowful Skirt Saga by Roger Benson

Also, more Roger Benson spanking illustrations here.

Smiles and Spanks, NaturallyGin.com

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