The Sexual Adventures of Clara Thornton
Copyright© 2026 by Ribbleman
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A story of English Edwardian aristocrats and their perverted sexual scandals and lifestyles. Not unlike the scandals we read about today.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Mult Coercion Consensual Reluctant Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Spanking Group Sex Orgy Anal Sex Analingus Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Public Sex Small Breasts
Much has been written about the customs and lifestyle of Victorian England as appertained to the upper classes and gentry. Old habits die hard and the attitudes persisted well into the Edwardian era and beyond. One such household was the home of Lady Amelia Thornton, widow of Lord David Thornton, who spent her time between the family pile in the North of England, Weston Manor, and her large house in London’s Hampstead. Lady Amelia had decided it essential that her daughter Clara should become acquainted with the off-spring of other titled (and rich) families which would only happen if they resided in the capital.
In spite of the changing times it was still expected, amongst those who still valued Victorian values that anyone under the age of 21, especially a female, should blindly obey, and submit to the will of their parents or guardian. In fact, a female didn’t have many rights at all - which caused a few problems in the Thornton household.
‘I’m at my wit’s end with Clara,’ Lady Amelia complained. ‘The girl is becoming more rebellious every day.’
Her companion, Sir Peter Walker, who had known the family a long time, empathised with the ennobled woman.
‘Yes, my dear Lady A, I understand your problem. Young people today have no respect for their betters and elders.’
‘Part of the problem with Clara, is that since the demise of my husband, there has been no strong male presence to keep her on the straight and narrow - or administer the necessary discipline and chastisement. I’m afraid, Peter, that if I tried to lay down the law in the physical sense, as her father undoubtedly would, had he still been with us, it would be quite ineffective.’
‘What do you mean, Lady A; are you talking about taking the strap to her. Surely you’re still capable of dishing out the appropriate punishment - a few whacks on her derrière?’
‘Being severely scolded by me, her mother, wouldn’t have the desired effect, I don’t think. The girl is headstrong and would probably just grin. No, Peter, I remember when I was punished at home and indeed at finishing school in Switzerland when I was 18. The shame that comes from the humiliation of bending over to have your bottom smacked is worse than the pain - and at age 18, submitting your bottom up to be spanked or caned by a man can be very effective in making one see the error of one’s ways! Clara is now aged 19 and is already breaking the rules on almost a daily basis. Why, last week she spent a great deal of time completely alone with a man - unchaperoned! What will people think?’
‘Fear not, my dear,’ Sir Peter, assured her, ‘It’s the way of the world; the days when a young woman needed to be accompanied by a chaperone every time she left the house are long gone. Women are even campaigning for the right to vote would you believe!’
‘Quite ridiculous!’ Lady A proclaimed. ‘I must tell you Peter, I feel very disappointed by your over tolerant attitude on this subject. I had planned to ask for your assistance.’
‘In what way?’
‘In the absence of Clara having a father, I hoped you would take on the role of keeping the girl in check.’
Sir Peter thought for a minute.
‘Are you saying you’d give your permission for me to dish out a spanking or deliver a few whacks on the backside of your errant daughter?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ snapped Lady A. ‘The purpose of the chastisement is to cause her shame and humiliation. I expect you’d only have to carry out the task two or three times, before she complied - behave as I expect her to - complete obedience - ultimately to you too, as well, Peter. I’m very aware that you’d almost certainly receive some level of pleasure from carrying out such a task - I have no problem with that!’
Sir Peter smiled, feeling his penis stiffen. ‘How can I possibly refuse such an offer?’
Sir Peter rose from his seat. It was time to carry out another task - his real reason for visiting the widow. When Lady Amelia saw him approaching the couch her breathing became laboured. She stretched out her legs and lifted her gown over her knees, exposing the hem of her pantaloons. In these modern Edwardian times, even older ladies like Lady A, now wore their undergarments much shorter and had dispensed with the uncomfortable and troublesome bustle several years earlier.
These days, when Ladies received a certain type of male visitor in their drawing room or parlours, thrusting a hand up a woman’s gown was a much simpler task. Spreading her thighs out wide to offer easy access to her cunt through the split of her single leg bloomers, Lady A gasped with her usual excitement as Sir Peter knelt between her legs. As his entire arm disappeared up the ladies gown the widow uttered a deep sigh, her mouth falling open.
‘When will you give my daughter her first taste of discipline,’ Lady A asked, gasping and sucking deep breaths.
‘I’ll make myself available within the next two days,’ Sir Peter answered, his arm working like a piston underneath the heavy gown of the titled lady.
‘Report back to me, please, on how she reacts - and how you administer her chastisement. Now, satisfy me!’
The male friend of the widow brought her to great heights of sexual gratification, making her yell out so loud that the servants could hear. The butler, Benson, stood nearby, waiting to see the visitor to the door when he left. Below stairs the young maid had her hand inside her bloomers, frigging away. Even the cook, Hilda, an older woman often fucked by the butler now sat in her room using a kitchen utensil as a dildo, while imagining what M’lady was up to with the distinguished gentleman caller.
Only the coachman was completely out of earshot seeing to his own pleasure as he fucked the middle aged housekeeper Mary, in the carriage house, bending her over the step of the horse drawn carriage her outer clothing folded over her head, with the opening of her pantaloons spread wide. The divided leg of her bloomers designed to make defecating and urinating much easier was also convenient for ladies who liked to be fucked up the back passage: a preference for some and an old fashioned effective method of contraception. The coachman’s cock pummelled her rectum so hard, that she was made to pant with delight and utter expletives.
It was surprising that the combined sexual activity didn’t cause the foundations of the building itself to weaken.
At eleven thirty a man on a motor cycle delivered a message from Clara, requesting for the coachman to come out with the carriage and collect her from a friend’s house in Knightsbridge. Wilson, having taken his pleasure arse-fucking the housekeeper set off as soon as he hitched up the horses, not even having had time to wash his shit and sperm soiled ‘John Thomas’.
Though Clara thought of herself as a modern woman, she nevertheless still carried the aloofness and arrogance of the British aristocracy. From actively protesting in the streets of London carrying banners supporting Votes for Women, the girl brought up in a very privileged background quickly reverted back to norm, enjoying her family’s wealth. Jumping into the rear of the coach when Wilson reached the pickup point, she opened the small flask put ready on the seat by Mary and poured herself a large gin.
‘Drive through the park, Wilson,’ Clara ordered, as she hitched up her skirt to remove her torn stockings. The coachman duly turned off Park Lane and headed into Hyde Park. Being late and dark it was probably the only vehicle cutting through the Royal park.
‘Mother will give me long lecture if she sees me like this - have you brought the new stockings I asked for?
On receiving an affirmative answer Clara told the man to pass them to her.
‘That would be a difficult and unsafe task while I’m driving ma’am, as I need to retrieve them from my bag, M’lady was hovering about so I had to hide them when Mary handed them over to me.
‘Then stop in a convenient place, Wilson.’
The coachman pulled to a stop then leaning over to his bag and took out the stockings and turned to face Clara, ready to pass the garments. He was faced with the delightful sight of the 19yr old girls naked thighs, slightly parted. Unlike many folk who still wore long bloomers that were elasticated just above the knee, Clara favoured the much shorter new fashion with a loose leg that went by the popular name of French Knickers.
Wilson got an instant erection; for any man, seeing the naked flesh of the upper thighs of a woman who was not his wife or paid prostitute was almost unheard of for a man of his position in life. True, it was almost fashionable for upper class Gentlemen to keep a mistress, but that was a different world. The phrase, ‘almost unheard of’, would be correct because the man servant was one of a few lucky enough to have seen Clara’s thighs on other occasions.
Laid back in the plush rear seat of the luxury carriage, Clara made no attempt to stretch forward to take the small packet from Wilson’s hand. Neither did she bother to cover her legs with her long gown, or to close her thighs, in fact, as Wilson sat half turned gazing at Clara’s crotch, she slowly parted her knees a few inches more.
‘I think you should bring them to me,’ Clara said, in a tone that made it clear this was an order not a suggestion.