Room 2D

From Janus 162 Tell us a little about yourself. I’m a 28-year-old graduate from a respectable middle-class background. Sunday school and Girl Guides kind of thing. If I could dispense with modesty a moment I’m intelligent ambitious and successful. I hold a senior position at a well-known merchant bank in the City. I also have an evening job — I meet gentlemen who punish me in return for ‘pocket money’! I was introduced to  Janus  a few years ago and had read the contacts section in  Privilege . It took me ages but I plucked up the courage to place a contact ad in myself. I had lots of nice letters from CP enthusiasts. Finally, I replied and went out and met people and that’s where it all started. When did you discover your interest in CP? Well, I didn’t realise until I was about 13. I know some people always ‘know’ or ‘knew’ when they were seven but it was much later for me. I can’t actually remember a precis...

Mr Briggs from  Monitors Duty  returns. From Uniform Girls 20 Annie could feel the draught under the door, the age of the house revealed in its gaps like wrinkles on a face. In white shorts and sleeveless yellow T-shirt, she was not dressed for the coolness of the evening. The dress, however, was not voluntary, but compulsory. He had specified exactly what she should wear, and the time at which she must report. Annie wasn’t even sure if the caretaker was  allowed  to punish her, but the risk of querying his motives could lead to an even more severe punishment at the hands of someone in real authority. To be caught out once in a day was careless, to be caught out twice as she had been was downright foolish. The mild caning the caretaker had administered during the thunderstorm in the morning would be as nothing to the swishing she expected to receive in a few minutes. Not wearing a watch, she wondere...

From Uniform Girls 20 The long summer day, humid and sticky, has at last begun to lose its heat as twilight settles over the grounds and uneven rooflines of The Grange. At the foot of the main staircase, in what is known as the ‘front building’, a clock, high up on the wall opposite the stairs, stands at twenty-seven minutes past nine. From the direction of the darkening east wing, comes the thin sound of sporadic whistling, tuneless for the most part, and drawing slowly nearer; and now, from the first floor, the patter of hurrying feet echoes softly around the lofty entrance hall. A girl appears suddenly at the top of the stairs and comes skittering rapidly down them, her blonde hair bouncing, and she scampers across the black and white marble tiles which pave the hall, to a cupboard which is set back into an alcove. She stops in a fluster before the cupboard, her hands at the waistband of her skirt, unclipping and unzipping, w...

A classic oldie, sometimes called Low Marks.

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