When I got back to Peggy’s place she was waiting for me, worried why I’d been so long. She could see I no longer had my tights on, and that I’d been crying. I sat next to her on her bed and told her what had happened.

She put her arm around me and stroked my hair, sympathising with my ordeal. After a while she asked if I’d like some cream on my bottom, to take the sting away. I still felt so humiliated and vulnerable that I agreed. She went back to the bathroom and returned with a jar of cream that she assured me would help.

I let her lay me face down on her bed. She then lifted my dress and pulled down my knickers, revealing my still bright red bottom. She then rubbed some of her cream into my bottom. Embarrassing though it was, her cream certainly took some of the sting away.

When she was done I pulled my knickers back up, and we went downstairs.

She poured us a couple of generous G&Ts, and we started talking. She was intrigued by how many people had turned up to watch the public spankings.

With the pain in my bottom now receding, I cottoned on to what she was thinking. If hundreds of people turned up to a public spanking in the shopping mall, maybe they'd come to a bar to watch a similar spectacle.

She asked me what I thought, and how we might be able to implement such a plan.

By now, the bar was pretty popular, with many women coming apparently to watch the men in their skirts and dresses. Might they also be interested in watching a spanking? I conceded they might.

I reluctantly agreed with Peggy that we should try it.

So we did a load of publicity saying that we were going to have a ‘spanking evening’ in the middle of March. The deal Peggy agreed with the serving staff – by now there were half a dozen of us - was that she’d sell tickets to administer the spanking, and that 50% of the takings from that would go to whoever got spanked.

None of us had much money, so we all readily agreed, hoping we wouldn’t be on the receiving end.

The tickets for the spanking evening sold like hot cakes. Peggy was delighted. Those of us serving, and so potentially on the end of a spanking, somewhat less so.

By seven o'clock the bar was heaving. There were groups of women determined to have a good time, and the wine and prosecco was flowing. It was all we could do to keep up with the orders.

Peggy had bought the servers a new uniform for the evening, and I have to say I felt quite vulnerable in mine. It consisted of a white t-shirt with our femme names on. With an androgenous name, having ‘Jo’ on my shirt didn’t matter too much to me, but one or two of the other servers were a bit upset about being given girly names.

It wasn’t the t-shirt that concerned me. Peggy had also given us all little pleated skirts to wear. Mine only just covered my panties, and the stockings and suspenders we’d been told to wear left nothing to the imagination. As I tottered around in my heels I knew my panties were occasionally flashing, and that my stocking tops were clearly visible.

The panties Peggy had given us all to wear were see-through, with white lacy trim around the waistband and legs. She told us had to wear them to get the guests excited about spanking us. Looking at them, I didn’t think they needed to get any more excited.