The air in the room hung heavy with the odour of tobacco, stale beer and that familiar ‘old man’ smell. The meeting was in full session and the atmosphere of confected moral outrage was nearing fever pitch. The topic under discussion concerned two subjects which were guaranteed to press the members’ buttons: immigration and the declining moral standards of today’s youth, particularly the females. They had just heard Ronald’s sad tale. He had, rather foolishly in the private opinion of most gathered, got himself involved in a ‘catalogue bride’ scheme. His wife had died many years previously and seeking a little female company and assistance around his rather ramshackle house he had acquired a blushing bride from some Far Eastern land. All seemed to be going fine until one day he returned early after a game of golf had been rained off to find his young wife performing a series of intimate acts with a young man. The room was filled with all the accoutrements of a massage parlour and it turned out she had been offering certain services behind his back.
The local gentry were suitably appalled and James Ritman had been sent in to deal with her before contacts in the immigration office organized her swift dispatch home. The Association felt however that there might be a bigger problem that needed nipping in the bud. The truth is that any woman willing to travel half way across the world was probably of suspect morals. Clearly something needed to be done before Bridley turned in Bangkok. The Association began to compile a discreet registry of ‘foreign brides’ mostly Asians and the occasional Russian and trusted committee members were given the task of investigating further. Usually this consisted of an unanticipated visit to their dwelling. Quite a few miscreants were discovered this way and it is surprising how quickly a massage table and a bottle of oil can be turned to punitive purposes.
As effective as this strategy was several members were of the opinion that it was not thorough enough. They therefore proposed a more active approach. When a local resident was found to have got himself involved with a catalogue girl, the girl in question would be invited in to be interviewed by a select group of trusted committee members to ascertain whether she was a suitable resident. As one might expect the interview was extremely thorough.
Tonight a young Thai lady was their subject. Ralph a pleasant enough old chap had got in touch with her via the internet and after several rather hefty donations to her family she had flown over. From the big grin on Ralph’s face it would seem that he was very happy with his new bride but other members had their doubts.
He had dropped her off at 7:30 in the village hall and now Anchalee stood alone in front of the four older men. She had the blank prettiness of many Asian girls, long dark hair and pale skin. Surprisingly though her breasts were rather full in proportion to her slim figure. One of the committee members had already decided to determine their authenticity.
“Hello Anchalee, as your husband may have told you the purpose of tonight’s meeting is to ascertain whether you fit into Bridley. We are very proud of our community and we don’t let just anyone join.”
She smiled. Whether that meant she understood or was just trying to make an impression the committee members neither knew nor cared.
“Very well then, the first task is to ascertain whether you are all that you appear to be. We can’t have bloody ladyboys living amongst us.”
She was wearing a smart dark blue suit and pale stockings.
“Alright then, let’s have a proper look at you” Archie said.
A look of incomprehension darkened her pretty face. It was not clear whether she did not understand their English or whether what they were asking was so shocking to her.
Reg now spoke as if he was addressing a retarded child.
“Take… off… your.. clothes..”
This clearly registered with her. To their surprise her natural Oriental submissiveness kicked in at this point and without further ado she unbuttoned her jacket and blouse and removed her skirt placing them neatly on the chair.
She was wearing pink silky knickers and a matching bra. The white stockings were hold ups and she had pumps which completed the outfit.
Three of the men at the top table seemed obviously moved by her vulnerable presence. The other, James Ritman, had a sour expression on his face whether in disgust at her or in his fellows.
“ In Bridley we like to ensure that traditional standards are respected and maintained. And the only effective way to do that as far as females are concerned is by the regular application of discipline.” Reg droned on, not caring much whether the girl in front of him understood.
“We have found that many husbands are reluctant to impose the necessary discipline so that task sadly falls to us. Does your husband spank you?”
A puzzled look crossed her face.
Reg now stood up from the top table and approached the half-naked Asian.
“Perhaps a demonstration is in order”
As he said that he took her shoulders and positioned her across his lap in one smooth operation.
Before the girl knew what was happening he was spanking her. To his mild disappointment she let out only the faintest protest. Perhaps all this natural submissiveness stuff was legit he thought to himself. It was only when he started to hit her harder that her cries became audible to the others.
“Time for those knickers to come off, I believe” said Alf.
Reg stopped what he was doing and swiftly yanked the pink material of the panties down. In keeping with tradition he pocketed them for later. Even then she only let out the mildest of protests. Ritman surmised to himself that this was further proof, if any were needed, of her utterly corrupted character.
The alabaster skin of her slim bottom was already starting to turn blotchy crimson. Reg carried on bashing the hell out of her arse for several minutes before a cough from the top table indicated for him to stop.
It was Ritman’s turn now. He took a small box out of his jacket pocket which turned out to contain latex gloves.
“We really don’t know what these foreigners carry with them.” He informed those gathered around the table.
“Reg would you assist James” Alf asked
Reg stood up. His obvious excitement was clearly visible but none of the others drew attention to it. The girl glanced briefly at the bulge in his pants and it became clear to her the direction in which the evening was headed.
“Take of her bra” Ritman said.
Reg unbuckled the bra to reveal two very shapely yet full mounds. These were Ritman’s first target. His latex covered hands began to paw and then grope them. They wobbled appealingly as he inspected them holding first one then the other in his hand. Reg held her arms back to push the tits forward and Ritman now proceeded to slap, them chiding her on her vanity and superficiality as he did so. The slaps were measured but calculated to have the maximum impact and her pretty face winced with pain at each one. Then a brief respite before his fingers and thumbs started to tweak and twisted the sensitive flesh of her nipples. Eventually he tired of this and indicated for Reg to position her kneeling on the chair with her arse sticking out. A few cursory slaps to her bottom and then his fingers were at her inserting themselves into her anus and then her vagina. His other hand reached round and it started to massage her clit. It obviously hurt at first but as the manipulation continued the girl could not but respond. Her hips bucked and twisted rhythmically in reply.
“Just as I thought another whore” he growled as she was just on the verge of climax.
He walked away and threw the gloves contemptuously in the bin.
Alf now stood up. The girl was still presenting herself on the chair. Her body trembled with the sensation of being brought so close to climax. When Alf now wielded his cane and brought it cracking against the taut skin of her bottom the effect was truly devastating. Now any semblance of Oriental stoicism had gone and she let out deep heartfelt cries of pain.
In all Alf delivered twelve strokes across her bottom and thighs, six on the full reasonably well padded buttocks and six on the far less protected thighs. A powdery residue mingled with a few flecks of blood where the skin was broken. It was clear that her bottom would not take much more. But this meant no release.
The last of the men, Michael, now asked Alf to position her in the chair with her legs open. The neatly trimmed tuft of her pubic hair gave way to the dark meat of her labia. It was here that Michael intended to direct his attentions. As Alf held her firmly in position, he let her have it with his leather strap full square on her cunt which made her shriek in agony some landed on the pouting orifice while others landed higher up as the organ designed for her pleasure became a source of excruciating pain.
Only the chair prevented the sobbing girl from collapsing into a heap. But if the formal part of her discipline was concluded they had not finished with her throbbing cunt. What now followed was referred to in Committee circles as the “test of fidelity”. It was an odd choice of terms given that it involved a violation of sacred marital vows but the old hypocrites somehow managed to justify this to themselves. After all, a young wife could hardly be blamed if someone forced or pressurized her into certain acts and it is not unknown for a husband to wish to share his wife with trusted associates. The test in question concerned whether the wife used in such a way took any pleasure in the act.
As the four older men took it in turns to mount her and to help themselves to her various orifices Anchalee certainly did not seem to be enjoying herself very much. Her face was blank even by Asian standards. And yet when Ritman’s turn came t her body started to respond in familiar ways. Perhaps it was the excessive stimulation that her cunt and clitoris had had to endure, perhaps it was something more primal in the fact of her being dominated by these older powerful men but wave upon wave of orgasm coursed her body before Ritman finally concluded and let out a grim grunt as he shot his seed inside her. The look of utter contempt on his face showed that this proved her to be as untrustworthy as all other females and he cemented this impression by picking up the pink bra and using it to clean his cock.
When her husband returned, Anchalee was now dressed, apart from the pink knickers which the committee retained. Several pints inside him her husband was keen to get her home and to do his business with her. Her blank expression gave nothing away. The marks on her bottom and thighs only indicated that discipline had taken place and this was no surprise to him. He was after all, a member of the Association and supportive of its aims. Only the committee members knew how busy his pretty Thai bride's cunt had been that evening.