Brigadier Sir Harold Highchapel was not the sort of fellow who found amusement in the sordid affairs of the less fortunate underclasses that populated the closely built housing that had seemingly popped up overnight in the crumbling manors on the western part of the Oxford region. He was somewhat in disaccord with the slow creeping shift in demographics primarily because it impacted the voting patterns of the entire district. The maturing ex-military man was seldom in good health recently and his sense of humor was sorely lacking in recent years. Of course the passing of his obedient spouse Mary and the declaration of his beloved daughter Regina that she had decided to "marry" a French lingerie model called Fifi Amour caused him no end of irritation just at the start of the fast-evolving election cycle.

The thought of his comfortable estate being passed to the hands of French lingerie model was horrifying to a man so set in his ways and resentful of change. It seemed almost unpatriotic to even consider the consequences.

His next door neighbor was the complicated but alluring Lady Templeton who answered to the name of Lady Patricia when personages of intellect were in attendance at one of her many dinner parties that she employed to "stay busy" in her newly acquired widowhood. Lady Patricia and Sir Simon were never much of a social breed or so inclined, but now that she was on her own, Patricia wanted to be "up to date" on everything rather than pull up the drawbridge and waste away in silence.

Harold was uncertain why he accepted the invitation to her "little" dinner party because he was in such a foul mood, but he knew it was necessary to bolster some confidence in the ruling party and attendance seemed appropriate if for no other reason than that self-serving objective.

"Sir Harold, it is so nice of you to come!"

Lady Patricia's welcoming greeting did sound quite sincere and he could not but notice she had worn one of those gowns seen worn with subtle invitation to debauchery behind closed doors. The other house guests were diverse but depressingly much younger than he and it made his mood even sourer as the evening wore on.

He wondered why she had invited several young and nubile females from the city and that they all wore the skimpiest of costumes that inflamed male passions with the briefest of glances.

After a sumptuous dinner to which he had no ill regard, they all retired to the large salon with the huge fireplace and sunken "conversation pit" that reminded him of a Roman arena for spectacles of a sordid nature.

Lady Patricia had employed a string quartet for entertainment purposes and they played discreetly in a corner well away from the general conversation.

Harold thought it all a bit of a farce and terribly expensive but endured it all with a silent tongue. One of the pretty young things wearing a devastatingly short dress sat down beside him and let her delectable soft-skinned bare thigh rest with familiar abandon on his expertly creased trouser leg. He managed a sideways glance and saw that her cleavage was bordering on obscene but he was suitably impressed with her presentation. The scent of her perfume wafted into his nostrils and he found that he was sniffing like a hound dog ready for the bugle.

Some of the guests were dancing in bare feet on the fluffy white carpet to the slow music from the corner and he suspected it was just an excuse to "get the lay of the land" with the spouses of other men. Everyone seemed to be having a happy experience and he tried to lose his unseemly attitude of pending doom. Two servants brought forward a silly device that looked much like the antique "stocks" found in museums and tourist centers for castles and long-closed jails. It was modernistic with glass or clear plastic instead of thick wood but the concept was the same and the occupant would lose all control of their appendages and their heads were firmly locked into place with no chance to escape.

Lady Patricia walked over to the girl next to Harold and whispered into her ear much too low for him to understand what was said but the girl just smiled and padded over to the device and allowed the servants to lock her into it with a buzz of interest from the other guests.

It was beginning to dawn on Harold how depraved Lady Templeton's "little" dinner parties really were and that the fun and games were just starting. The tall servant with the strong hands stripped the girl of every bit of clothing below her waist and turned the stock device around so that the young female was seen in profile with both her face and her bum in full view. Harry could see that she was splendidly shaven and sparkling clean with healthy young flesh and long tapered dancer's legs.

The rather pleasantly plump magistrate's wife timidly entered the pit and fondled the poor girl's rear end before starting to spank her with skilled and stinging blows that brought an immediate response from the bound girl in the form of startled gasps and outcries of protest. Apparently, she had been procured with the proclamation of only looking and no touching and she was just now aware that the format was bogus and she would be severely chastised on her appealing rump.

Harry saw the young son of only eighteen years of the vicar and his stern-looking wife being pushed forward by them to join in the festivities. He was prompted to give the nubile victim a proper seeing to with his now exposed tool but instead he quickly flipped up the magistrate's wife's flowing gown and pulled down her French style knickers. His entry and pumping action into her dampened slit was in perfect unison with her accelerated spanking of the helpless young girl in the stocks.

The other guests were much amused by the overweight wife's predicament because her well-padded rear end was soon redder than the girl in the stocks. Even her husband was fascinated by her jiggling flesh being pounded by the young lad with determined spirit and vigorous application. The girl in the stocks knew her tormentor was in trouble even though she could not look back and see of what nature and it gave her fresh valor to not struggle and accept her due. She gloated in the severity of the magistrate's wife's cries for mercy and uttered not a single complaint as she was brought to a shocking shade of red in all of her rear facing areas.