Room 2D

From Blushes 18 The door was opened by a girl with a foreign accent, she would be the  au pair . She took Sarah’s coat and showed her into a room and said have a seat, Dr Ritson would not be long. Sarah sat on the chair, though she felt much too nervous to calmly sit and wait. It was Dr Ritson’s private house, not his surgery. She chewed her lower lip. Her friend Alexandra had come to Dr Ritson and said he was OK, he would put you on them and more importantly he wouldn’t want to discuss it with your mum first. Sarah squirmed on the chair; her mother would kill her if she knew. But then she would certainly kill her if Sarah found herself pregnant. Robert had  said  he was going to use something but then afterwards admitted he hadn’t. And that was the second time he’d done that even though she’d really gone berserk the first time. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Nothing’ll happen,’ but that was just being bloody  stupid . Something  c

Dear Editor, For all those readers who keep asking for pictures of real girls who suffer punishment on their very deserving little bums, I dedicate the enclosed photograph of my niece. I could not resist snapping her as she lay sunning herself in my garden displaying so prominently that portion of her anatomy I have up until quite recently used as a place of correction. Jane is now twenty plus and her spanking days are regrettably over, but she still jokes about uncle’s old-fashioned methods of discipline. I well remember the first time, not long ago, Jane found out that uncle was not like dad. She had come to stay for the week. A telling off about using bad language produced more of the same which ended up with one very surprised young madam face down over uncle’s knee getting the well filled seat of her jeans soundly spanked with one of the same’s slippers. Surprisingly our relationship has recently developed into a very close one in spite of this early set back. Over the years

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From Uniform Girls 14 As Jane stubbed out the cigarette carefully on a wooden post, she tucked the butt-end into her jacket pocket to hide the evidence. It was only then that she heard the slight rustle of another presence in the stall as feet disturbed the thick lining of straw. ‘You know the rules about smoking in the stables, Jane,’ came a voice out of the gloom… ‘and the penalty for it.’ Jane peered into the darkness, trying to identify the owner of the voice. ‘Who the hell’s that?’ The head lad stepped out of the shadows and moved down the row of stalls towards the girl. ‘And in my opinion, you would benefit considerably from a sound thrashing.’ ‘A thrashing, Mr Greaves?’ Jane’s voice rose nervously as she realised she had been caught out at last. All those surreptitious gaspers she had snatched behind the barn, in the barn, in the tack room, in the stables themselves, and she’d never been caught. In six months as