Room 2D

Story from Janus 30 by Andrew Grantham Cliff was somewhat used to seeing Andrea. The pretty, blonde 19-year-old had been a regular visitor to his home for the past eight years or so. Andrea had mated up with Cliff’s daughter at the start of secondary school and the relationship had been maintained throughout the following years. Always a very pleasant and pretty young girl, Andrea had blossomed into a very attractive and nubile teenager. Cliff himself would be the first to agree that Andrea appeared in quite a lot of his fantasies. Since her parents had split up, the girl had come to spend more and more of her time in Cliff’s home; the main reason being that her mother had set up house with her ‘boyfriend’ on the other side of town. There was generally a good reason why the pretty blonde spent so many nights under Cliff’s roof, sharing a room with his daughter — the last bus had gone, she had forgotten her umbrella, sh...

By Andrew Grantham from Janus 160 Wendy Baker, the Principal of St Priscilla’s, surveyed the just-bared bottom of the attractive eighteen-year-old bent over in front of her. It was a delectably full bottom, perfectly ripe for the punishment which deservedly awaited it. The vale dividing the succulently-rounded buttocks was long and deep. Excellently-sculpted thighs supported Sophie Smith’s luscious rear. The short-haired, blonde girl’s peach-shaped sex cleft was blatantly exposed due to her feet being planted some distance apart. Some of St Priscilla’s delinquents tried, in vain, to conceal their intimate treasure, but Sophie Smith had never attempted to do so. It was her third caning. Miss Baker; an attractive, highly-qualified, young woman wondered whether the girl would ever mend her ways. Sophie had become, very much, a disruptive influence at St Priscilla’s. As Wendy shuffled into position behind the girl, she briefly...

Story by Andrew Grantham from Janus 35 with illustrations by Paula Meadows Sandra winced as she pulled up her knickers. The tight elastic kept digging into the six weals adorning her mature, though still teenage, bum-cheeks. ‘I will not tolerate lateness!’ thundered Mr Hunter, the Headmaster. The pretty girl flicked away black curls from her face. ‘I’m sorry sir,’ she stammered. ‘It’s the buses!’ Actually it was one bus in particular that was often late, and inevitably when a certain young driver was at the wheel. ‘I am not interested in transportation problems!’ raged Mr Hunter. ‘My only concern is with the smooth running of this school. And it cannot be run properly when the pupils fail to arrive on time!’ Sandra was sorry she had spoken out. She ought to have just accepted the caning and walked out of the Head’s study without saying a word. Now Mr Hunter was about to deliver a lecture. ‘When I was your age, my girl,...