Letters from Uniform Girls 21

Dear Sirs,

I’m writing to thank you for publishing my letter, along with a photograph of ‘Katie’, in Supplement 15. I must say it has given me enormous satisfaction.

I first discovered that you’d put her in the magazine when I was browsing in a bookshop in Soho. I cannot describe the effect of turning the page to see a girl I know so well pictured in a magazine for devotees of CP. I filched that picture of her last summer, and it was with the intention of having a good shot of her bum for my own purposes. I’m so glad I decided to offer her to a wider audience. The photo takes on a special magic, sandwiched between one reader’s description of scrubbing a girl’s genitals and another’s enthusiastic advocation of Dickensian floggings for Nigerian girls. And there’s my neighbour’s daughter, served up for everybody’s wanking pleasure, eighteen and absolutely delectable!

My primary purpose in writing this second letter is to encourage other readers to send in photos of girls they know. It really is the most exquisite thrill to know that she is being used as a target for other peoples’ fantasies, that one has been responsible for making an unsuspecting girl’s bottom the focus for the lustful attention of thousands.

Nicest of all was meeting Katie and her mother a couple of days later, chatting away as usual while I imagined what Katie’s mother’s feelings would be if she knew her daughter’s fat, sexy arse was at that very moment being assessed as an object to be whipped.

I only have two regrets. One is that no letters have been published of other readers’ detailed suggestions of how to deal with Katie (though her bottom has inevitably aroused comment). The other regret is that I was so lenient with her. The regime I proposed was limited by a fear that you might not publish her picture if the letter was too strong. However, I’ve been shamed for my timidity by another letter suggesting reform for Mandy, another reader’s next-door neighbour.

You’ll remember that my first letter merely described the girl and set forward how I would organise her lessons. This consisted basically of dressing her in tight pyjamas and thrashing her at every opportunity. However, this would take up only part of her day, and I thought you might like to hear what I’d do to her during the rest of the time.

Katie would sleep in what is presently my box-room. There would be a child’s bed in there (no mattress) and a couple of rough, itchy blankets. No carpets or decorations of any kind. She would sleep naked. Over her bed would be a large fire-alarm bell, operated by a switch in my bedroom. Thus I could wake her at any time I wanted by a few deafening blasts.

I’d also be able to control the temperature in her room by remote control. Obviously heating would be kept to a minimum in winter, but I would enjoy turning it on full on really hot nights.

Katie’s day would start with a cold shower, after which she would make herself attractive, perfume herself, and bring me my morning tea (still nude). The previous evening I will have given her a passage of English Literature to memorise, and she will wait by my bed until I ask her to repeat this. Any mistakes will be punished with swipes on the thighs with a plastic ruler.

Like most men, I am at my randiest first thing in the morning, and Katie will often have to attend to my problem, paying lip-service to my priapic needs before we proceed any further.

I’d eat a hearty breakfast while she dresses in front of me. The first costume would be for housework. It consists of a small and tight pair of cotton knickers. Over these she’d wear a pleated games skirt and above a white tee-shirt. Ankle socks and plimsolls would complete the picture.

Housework must be done thoroughly every day. Special attention must be given to skirting boards, which have to be cleaned with a toothbrush. This obviously involves going down on all fours with resultant display of chubby bottom, tight knickers having bunched up in the arse-crack. No wonder I’d be hard pressed to complete my crossword with this sort of distraction as she slaved away. In fact it’s unlikely that I’d be able to resist bringing the plastic ruler back into play to ensure greater effort.

General housework having been completed, Katie must then turn her attention to the day’s ‘special’. This would be something nasty dreamed up by me, either pointless and humiliating, such as counting every grain of rice in a 5lb bag, or more likely simply the most unpleasant thing I could think of. For example, she might have to empty a binful of kitchen scraps using only her bare hands. Then she’d have to clean and polish the inside of the bin until it is satisfactory in my eyes, then replace all the filth again with her bare hands.

Katie is then hosed down with cold water, fully dressed. Next she strips for a hot hosing down, followed by a good scrubbing with a floor brush and Flash. Finally more cold water to rinse her off.

Lunch would be a bowl of cold porridge followed by prunes. Katie would not dress for this, but remain dripping outside in the nude, whatever the weather.

Now would follow an hour of exercise on the good old-fashioned treadmill. Katie would remain naked for this, and she’d have to grasp the very low bar on the treadmill at all times, thus thrusting out her already thrusting arse in a thoroughly crude manner. It’s vulgarity becomes even more pronounced by her pumping movements, as I keep her working at a brisk trot throughout. Once again the plastic ruler is an excellent incentive, and Katie’s wobbling bum-cheeks are soon scorching. Likewise her reddened thighs.

After a cold shower, Katie would don her over-tight pyjamas, and the bulk of the afternoon would be spent on lessons in the attic, as detailed in Supplement 15. At least her fat bottom will get the sort of caning it has been crying out for all day, though the tawse will also make regular appearances.

Katie’s evening meal (in contrast with my delicious feast) would be a couple of slices of bread and a mug of water. After this her pyjamas would be replaced by a conventional outfit of skirt and blouse over plain but pretty bra and knickers, smart socks and sandals, ready to receive the evening’s guests.

After she has served drinks to all my randy friends we begin what we call Katie’s ‘ordeal’. First she sits on a hard wooden chair in the middle of the room. One of our number has the task of applying the sensor pads of a lie-detector to her inner thighs. To one side of the room is a blackboard with chalk available.

We now take it in turns to ask Katie the most embarrassing personal questions we can think of. She has thus to describe in minute detail every aspect of her sexual life, from fantasy to reality. Any bleep on the detector or attempt at evasion results in the chalking up of marks on the blackboard. These will later be translated into strokes of the cane, with additional awards for any confessed ‘immorality’ ensuring that she gets an adequate dose.

Punishment does not immediately ensue, but Katie adopts an ‘artistic’ pose while we play cards. Every time a game is won the winner is able to remove a garment from Katie. Play goes on when Katie is nude, though this time winners are able to give her a stroke with the cane. Only when the full total awarded on the blackboard has been absolved does the card game come to a halt.

By this time Katie is sobbing and her bum is blazing like a furnace. The method of allowing winners at cards to put the cane across her bottom ensures that the punisher makes the most of every stroke, not knowing how many more opportunities he will get. Furthermore it makes it clear to Katie that everyone in the room prizes the opportunity to whip her fat bottom.

As soon as cards are over Katie is available to all and sundry. The first couple of times we would all be a bit inhibited, but in due course she would be fucked by everyone present. In fact, by this time in the evening most of us would be very eager, so a strict rota has to be observed.

As each of us fucks her in his preferred method the others watch and shout encouragement, usually urging the man to give us a clear view of the mechanics of what is going on.

When everyone has had a turn, Katie must adopt her position for the rest of the evening, kneeling on the dining table with her abused posterior directly facing the assembly. The drinks party goes on till midnight, Katie being ignored unless anyone has the urge to fuck her again or spank her, which he is welcome to do. When the guests have gone I give her the passage to learn and pack her off to bed.

I hope your readers will feel I’ve done justice to Katie. In my earlier letter I said that there was no chance of me getting another photo of her; well, fortune has smiled unexpectedly upon me. While her face is by no means as interesting as her bottom, I felt your readers would find this an aid to their appreciation of Katie. If you could reprint my original snap of her skirted bum I’d be most grateful.

I cannot say how enjoyable it is to set down my true thoughts about a perfectly shy and inoffensive girl I meet nearly every day. Please urge your readers to do the same. And any further comments about Katie would be most gratifying for me.

Michael C.

Dear Sir, I am writing to say how much I enjoyed New Uniform Girls No. 20 but was disappointed that there was no Feedback as I find readers letters most enjoyable.

The best part of Issue 20 was the braces punishment of Jennifer on Pages 30 to 35 but I felt it would have been improved if the girl’s pubic hair had been shaven off.

I have found girls find it very humiliating to be shaven as it leaves them completely exposed when they bend over for punishment.

How about a picture story of a girl being shaven before punishment; also some attention should be given to ensure the girls personal hygiene is of a high standard.

Perhaps we can have a story of personal hygiene training.

Yours faithfully,

J Richards, London

Dear Sirs,

Usually I’m content just to peruse your magazines and buy those which appeal to me, rather than write in trying to influence policy. I suppose I like to be surprised — and also I don’t really want to read my own words rather than other peoples’. However, I felt I had to register my disagreement with two letters published in The Supplement No. 20, which I would be greatly disappointed to see influencing your choice of material.

Surely E Cole of Devon realises that he is expressing a very minority viewpoint when he says he wants to see girls ‘looking faintly amused’ in your photos. He says he is ‘not CP inclined’ so why doesn’t he stick with other magazines? The last thing I want to see in your publication is a photo of a girl with a smirk on her face. Similarly I am utterly turned off by stories such as The Beat Goes On (same issue) which end in cosy reconciliation. I am a genuine CP enthusiast; I buy your magazines because I expect them to contain punishment, the harsher the better. E Cole’s main reason for buying Blushes would seem to be the paper quality. How minority can you get?

Almost as silly is the letter from ‘one of your devoted readers’ who claims ‘The CP enthusiast looks for key words or phrases.’ The CP enthusiast does not. The CP enthusiast looks for GENUINE CORPORAL PUNISHMENT. This correspondent objects to ‘crude language’. I for one wish you would follow the example of practically every other sex magazine and start calling a cunt a cunt and an arsehole an arsehole. The coyness of some of your recent prose is only surpassed by the dreadful list of ‘key phrases’ put forward by this bloke. Anyone who uses the word ‘bottie’ to describe an arse ought to be locked up.

OK, so you’ve let other readers have their say. Let me say that Blushes magazines are the only ones to deal with genuine CP for girls, in spite of the many other titles claiming to do that. If you let the softies divert you from the excellent course you were following until recently we shall all be losers.

Yours with concern.

D Noble

Dear Sir,

Thanks for all your efforts on our behalf; I don’t think you have any serious challengers, though I can’t resist saying that recent issues have been rather disappointing. I take it you have some unwelcome restrictions on you at present. It must be quite a minefield to tread in a country which claims to have no censorship but which imposes it in a haphazard and unfair way all the time. All the same, I do hope you will be regaining the ‘edge’ which marked your publications a few months ago. It is very difficult to back-pedal after having so successfully pushed back the boundaries of what was considered acceptable in a spanking magazine, in particular the delicious emphasis you used to place on exploitation of the vulnerable. Humiliation used to be your forte. Let’s hope that a new term will start soon with greater rigour and harsher punishments than ever before!

In the meantime, please do everything you can to perk up jaded sexual appetites. Undue subtlety and fanciful costumes seem to be taking over from the mischievous, cynical style that produced such masterpieces as The Club, Prepositions, The New Regime, and two which I can’t remember the titles of but which should have a mention, the reluctant majorette [there are a few candidates for this story but I think he’s referring to Stepping Out] and the one about a girl called Geraldine wandering into the clutches of warden Higgins [A Trespasser in Higgins' Odd Little World].

Some of the ideas you have introduced could perhaps yield more. I’d like to see more naked girls in the snow and more of girls having to perform dirty, menial and arduous tasks. It would be nice, for instance, to see a gently sobbing girl standing alone in a large kitchen late at night, surrounded by mountains of washing-up which she has to do unassisted. Difficult and unpleasant work can, and of course should, be made even more of an ordeal by the right choice of clothing and plenty of hindrances. Looking across the office at our accounts clerk, Helen, I can imagine how pleasant it would be to have her work all day in my garden. Even better if she had to wear an elegant cocktail dress with a tight skirt, and stiletto heels which would stick in the soft earth time and time again. If that alone didn’t cause her to tumble, a 50lb backpack would guarantee plenty of inelegant sprawls in the mud. The backpack would also make the work many times more gruelling. Underwear would consist of knickers, reinforced with cord elastic at legs, waist and from front to back through the crotch. Bra would be size 32A (Helen is about 38D), and bra and knickers would be hooked to each other with more strong elastic to ensure lots of uncomfortable tugging, pinching and squeezing. No labour-saving tools would be permitted, and the lawn would have to be cut with nail scissors. I would choose a day of either sweltering heat, torrential rain or near-blizzard.

I seem to have touched on one of my favourite topics from your letters section, the ‘adoption’ of a girl by a reader and the description of how he would discipline her. Maybe I should try to sneak a photo of Helen and describe more fully how she would be treated if I was in charge of her. I do hope that more of your readers will be contributing stuff along these lines, especially when they can supply photographs of the victims. Please could Michael C give us a progress report on ‘Katie’ (Supplement 15) who has quite simply the most thrashable rump I’ve ever seen on a girl. Personally I’d be happy to see more girls like ‘Katie’ in your magazines, real girls who, unlike your models, probably hate the idea of being displayed in a spanking magazine for us to lust over!

Best wishes,

J.W.

By coincidence (guaranteed non-manufactured) Michael C’s up-date on ‘Katie’ arrived in the same post. Enjoy!

Dear Sir,

Talking in a pub recently with a friend, and the conversation having turned unexpectedly to the subject of corporal punishment, I was amazed when he produced from his briefcase a folder of photographs he had collected that day from a photo processing laboratory — ‘run by a friend’ — which showed pictures of a girl of about twenty or so, face down across a double bed in the classic ‘knickers down and bottom up’ spanking position. She was looking back towards the camera in most of them, her cheeks warm and her eyes bright, as though she had been weeping.

I learned that the girl was his girlfriend, whom I had never met, and that frequent spankings of this young lady’s bottom was part and parcel of their relationship. On enquiry, my friend said that, no, his girlfriend didn’t particularly like being spanked, but had been spanked nevertheless, weekly at least, since she had moved into his flat more than a year previously. Like it or not, she was plainly prepared to put up with it!

Suggestions from me that I should be allowed to witness a spanking were grinningly ignored, but my natural enthusiasm to know more was indulged, and he told me of the various embellishments he used to add spice to the occasions when this young girl was required to surrender her submissively bared bottom to his punishing palm. (Well, I suppose it’s just possible that you could tire of spanking the same delectable pair of young female buttocks in the same old boring way; would that I had such problems!)

Most intriguing, I thought, was his use of a hot-water bottle. The girl is, apparently, made to wear pyjamas to bed on the evenings she is to be punished; she is made to fill a hot-water bottle, then stand in the corner of the living room with it pressed against her pyjama-clad bottom for up to a quarter of an hour. She is then sent upstairs with the hot-water bottle and, with the bottle now a little cooled, is made to lie face down across the bed with her pyjama pants taken down and the ‘hottie’ placed squarely across her bottom-cheeks until her hot, pink and presumably tender bottom is presented for spanking in the traditional ‘over the knee’ position. I must say, I rather relished the prolongation of this unknown girl’s punishment in this way, which I should think she must find quite humiliating, besides uncomfortable, since she doesn’t like being spanked anyway!

I further understand, that my friend canes this young lady’s bum on certain occasions, when the hot-water bottle is again employed as before, with plenty of cheek-toasting across the bed after the bum-warming downstairs. The bottle is then refilled with very hot water, and the girl is made to lie across a pile of pillows, on top of which the now-refilled bottle is placed. This, says my friend, ensures that she keeps her bottom positioned nice and high for the cane, since otherwise her bare tummy will be in contact with the hot-water bottle, and also, apparently, makes sure that the girl’s bottom is swiftly re-presented after each stroke without the squirming about of the hips and the prevarication that might otherwise ensue.

No photograph, I’m afraid, since he could not be persuaded to part with any, but I hope someone of your readers will take up the idea, and that some girl, somewhere, will be given the same hot-water bottle treatment that my friend uses on his girlfriend.

A.S.W., Hants

Dear Blushes,

I’m addressing myself to you not because I have any exciting anecdotes to relate, nor because I have anything constructive to say about the contents of recent issues, but because I used to treasure your product and I greatly miss the stimulation it used to bring me.

When a magazine changes character one looks for a reason. I assume that your editor is the same one that launched Blushes (new editors tend to announce themselves with a fanfare of trumpets). I assume that your editor has not been on holiday for the past twelve months. And I assume that you have not been legally prevented from giving us the sort of material you so successfully made your name with.

Where have all the schoolgirls gone? Why is everyone in your stories 18 or over? And why above all have you re-introduced the worst kind of CP fiction which inevitably concludes with a volte-face and the supposed victim cuddling up to the supposed visitor?

I can’t for the life of me see what you are trying to achieve with your latest issue of Uniform Girls. It is the first issue of your magazines that I have bought for about nine months. I’ve browsed pretty extensively through every magazine you’ve brought out, but I’m quite simply not prepared to pay the very high cover price for anything which doesn’t excite me. The reason I bought this issue is because it had a letter about the series Actually Spanked which was a highlight of your golden period. However, nice as it was to ogle Debbie’s bum again, there is little in this magazine to suggest that you are actually dealing with the most exciting activity ever invented by man — that of dominating girls.

Until Blushes there was only one really adventurous magazine in the history of CP publishing. That was Roué, up to about issue 17 when it suddenly plunged into the depths of mediocrity. A lean period followed, after which Blushes arrived, began to establish itself, then itself began to meander into the marshland of love-play. Then it picked itself up and for a few glorious months became the sort of magazine one had always dreamed about. There were two catalytic letters which seemed to unleash a tide of quality correspondence: One Man’s Meat (tucked away in the slim, old-style Supplement) and the famous Questionnaire.

What are we left with now? A total lack of schoolgirls (though they are in plentiful supply in your rival magazines). Two stories that stop short of the climax, at least one that concludes in the worst possible way (the violinist who turns into a masochist) and a bunch of semi-literate, wholly eccentric letters. The screed from the guy who doesn’t want to see the words cunt or arse in your magazine has to be the looniest since some wally wrote to a spanking magazine asking for a painless cane! OK, there is some mileage in letting somebody with bizarre views have a say from time to time, but really! He objects to the very words which men — real men — use when referring to the female anatomy, and advocates a list of the most coy, sick-making alternatives imaginable! When did you last call a girl’s arse her ‘botty’? And anyone who is offended by the word tits should stick to Women’s Weekly. The whole point of CP magazines is that they treat girls on men’s terms, and don’t pay lip-service to outmoded ideas of chivalry. Stop pretending that we have to guard our language against their sensibilities.

I’m not sure to whom I am addressing myself, but I hope I am right in thinking that your videos were indeed ‘yours’ and not some independently produced product put out in your name. If you were capable of pandering so exactly to our needs, how can you peddle the existing tripe under the same name? I’m sure we all want to see girls suffer, both physically and emotionally. The letters you got a year or so ago should have proved how much we love to see schoolgirls humiliated. However hard I try, I can’t work up an erection over a series of photographs of unmarked bottoms, namby-pamby stories that wouldn’t be out of place in Escort, and loads of letters from the same person under a variety of names (the so-called B Young and his so-called friends. Maybe he gets instant hardness from your product. Maybe he finds his joke about superglue amusing).

I wasn’t born yesterday. Instead I have years of experience of publishers’ attempts to stimulate me with copy concerning corporal punishment. When the past twenty years have seen overt recognition of the masculine love of harsh discipline for girls, the publication of photos of weals on young bums, and the temporary banishment of the boring love-play scenario, you must be crackers to think that we are prepared to strenuously rekindle our interest in stuff that wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow in Mayfair circa 1965.

You won’t print this. You probably have a whole sheaf of letters gushing with praise from the mythical entourage of B. Young.

But who else can I turn to?

One does one’s best. Y.B.

Regards, Hobson (for the time being, anyway)