Room 2D

A St Angela’s story from Roué 10 It was Tuesday, the last lesson before lunch, and Mr Trulove was beginning 6A’s physics lesson with what he described as an ‘experiment to realise the latent heat embodied in kinetic energy’. 6A were taking notes, though mentally, and it was Millicent Peters who was the unwilling subject of the demonstration. Millicent was a pupil who embodied every one of those ideal qualities which a St Angela’s schoolmaster might look for in a girl: she was passably pretty, pretty well-rounded and pretty damned stupid — attributes which made hers a potential smacked bottom in every classroom in the school. Young Millicent had this morning provided an adequate excuse for the physics master to upend her across his knee for her third spanking in consecutive physics lessons — she had forgotten to present the two hundred lines she’d been given on Monday, these lines being additional to the smacked bottom she’d been

A St Angela’s story from Roué 9 The five girls crowded into the Headmaster’s study had arranged themselves into some semblance of a line, facing the big desk behind which the Headmaster himself lounged as he considered this Friday’s crop of prefectorial miscreants. Each girl averted her eyes as she came under direct scrutiny. Angela shuffled uncomfortably as her appearance was appraised, and Rosemary flushed prettily as she came in for special attention, having come straight from a gym lesson with insufficient time to change out of her shorts and sports vest. All five of the girls were prefects, and all five knew why they were there. Each of them, in their different ways, were quite attractive. Naturally, because only the prettiest girls were made prefects at St Angela’s, and even then only those with particularly smackable bottoms. Not that all the other girls didn’t get their bums tanned too, of course they did, but punishing the school’s prefects was one of the Headmaster’s own

A St Angela’s story from Roué 9 He’d passed them in the hallway as he’d left morning assembly, a subdued gathering of senior-school girls standing awkwardly around in a growing throng which milled about slowly in the entrance hall of the old part of the school. A hush had fallen over the group as he’d passed, eyes had followed him easily as he’d strolled in a leisurely way to his study. Now he lounged comfortably in his big leather armchair and idly checked down the lists one by one. Monday’s list first, the excitement churning round in the pit of his stomach as it always did the first Monday after half term. Forty — fifty — sixty — sixty-three. Sixty-three girls who had failed to attain the fifty per cent pass mark in one or more subjects in the half term exams. Sixty-three penitents. Sixty-three teenage bottoms queuing up for their canings. He did a bit of mental arithmetic. Six strokes each — say two minutes each girl allowing for tantrums, tears, and the natural reluctance of

Outlining the premise of the St Angela’s Girl School series of stories. From Roué 9 Anyone who read a short story in Roué a few months ago entitled  Room 2D  will have been in on the genesis of the idea for St Angela’s. The story centred around a little room in a girls school which was set aside specifically as a Punishment Room, and though no one actually got punished in the story, there was enough material there to describe a sketchy outline of the school and the kind of things which went on there.  Response from readers was encouraging, and has led to this present idea for a more complete St Angela’s Girls School   series. The intention is that the school should be fully described, complete with class registers, list of staff members etc., and that a few introductory incidents, in the form of short stories, should be used to set the ball rolling. Thereafter it is hoped that, keeping within the framework of the day to day runn

Story from Roué 8, following the further adventures of Julie Williamson ( Room 2D Continued ) Although now 17 1/2 and in her last year at St Angela’s, Julie Williamson had still no real idea of what she wanted to do when she left school. She would certainly be ready to leave — well, still getting your bare bottom caned at 17 was not a pleasant experience; even when the master was not as vicious with it as Mr Evans (History) who was only content when he’d reduced you to a state of sobbing, squirming wretchedness. Of course when she was younger there were romantic ideas of such things as airline stewardess — but now, with leaving imminent, well, no real idea at all. So when she went to the Head at the beginning of her last term to discuss careers — it must be said that her mind was a bit of a blank. She was also nervous, for the last time she was in his study (the last day of term before the Easter holidays) it had been to receive six with his cane on her bare bottom. (Although not n