“Good morning Ladies, welcome to our weekly spanking day. We have eight sissified husbands here today, all sweetly dressed ready for their punishments, and feeling VERY sorry for themselves.”

There were cries of misery from one or two places in the room, and one sissy even called out: “Take me home, Cheryl, for God’s sake!” followed by the sounds of a gag being forced into a grizzling mouth. Cynthia Strict laughed with her audience members at the usual interruptions.

“Yes,” she said, “please gag your huysbands firmly if they are in danger of protesting about their punishments. We can’t have them trying to get their own way, now, can we?”

“No!” “Oh for God’s sake!” and “Definitely not!” echoed throughout the members.

“To start with today,” continued Cynthia, “I’m going to ask Doreen to bring her stupid son-in-law up here so that we can fix him into the spanking frame across her knee.”

Doreen Myles rose from her place, pulled her daughter’s husband to his feet by one ear, and marched him stumbling to the front, up the steps onto the dais and sat down to pull him unceremoniously across her lap. He was wearing a babyish pale blue blouse with a wide picture collar and a pleated skirt in cream polyester. Cynthia and her helpers undid his skirt so that it could be slipped down and refastened round his knees, then proceeded to secure his wrists and his ankles and fasten them to the extremes of the bar frame that lay on the floor at Doreen’s feet.

“Doreen darling,” said Cynthia, “can I ask you to tell us all why you want to punish the fool today?”

The fifty-year-old matron wore a look of pained long-suffering, typical of Mothers-In-Law who have had enough of the men in their family. “This is Oliver Dripping,” she said. “I am sick to the back teeth of him pretending to be a male. I am overseeing his conversion into girlhood, and spanking the resistance out of him will help enormously to speed up the change.”

There was heartfelt applause, before Cynthia invited Florence Draine to drag her pathetic son-in-law up to sit on the seat beside her. “I am going to punish this thing, Jonathan Failsworth, for trying to be a male,” she cried. “He deserves all he gets.”

The male being fastened across her knees was dressed in a blouse of crisp white poplin, with a large Peter Pan collar and deep puffed sleeves as well as a sweet little girl skirt in pink nylon. His panties were pulled down to bare his ass and the two sissies were soon ready for starting.

“Are you ready, Ladies,” asked Cynthia, “for your five minutes of bare hand spanking? To be followed by five minutes of paddling, then of course their final five minutes of fully-gagged hard spanking with the leather tawse?”

“Yes!” affirmed both Mothers-In-Law, and “Yes!” echoed the roomful of watching women.

Then the spanking began, to deeply muffled “Ouches!” and “Owwws!” from the gagged sissies, and hums and “Ohhhs!” from the watching women, all of whom knew that both those pathetic husbands fully deserved every bit of the pain and humiliation their Mothers-In-Law were dishing out to them.