Room 2D

From Blushes 41 Did you know, Jean, that the tawse is still in use in many Scottish schools? Both boys and girls schools?’ The young nose wrinkled and a faintly puzzled expression appeared. ‘Er… what exactly is a tawse, Miss Cameron?’ A look of exasperation crossed the face of the stern-featured woman. ‘You really mean to say you do not know what a tawse is? Having lived eighteen years north of the border…’ ‘No… I don’t, Miss Cameron. I think I may have heard the word used in some connection,’ replied the fair-haired Jean. Miss Cameron ejected a scoffing laugh. ‘Connection! That’s good. The connection, I may tell you Jean, is with the bare behind of schoolchildren who don’t behave themselves. Because the tawse is a length of leather, often split into two at its end.’ The girl blinked nervously. ‘Y-You mean it’s a strap… a punishing strap?’ ‘That’s what I mean,’ said Miss Cameron bluntly. ‘What is more, Jean, I may say th...

Story with an iconic photo set, from Blushes 47 The room is brightly lit from unshaded, starkly functional bulbs suspended from the ceiling. There is no natural light for the room’s window is shuttered to blank off anything of the outside world. To blank off also perhaps from anyone who might be out there what is inside this brightly-lit room. What is in the room apart from its bright lights is not a lot in the way of furniture. A splay-legged wooden trestle or horse in the centre and near one wall a high, round-topped stool also of plain wood. That is it. The cream painted walls are devoid of any decoration and the floor is of bare boards. There is one human occupant also present in this room. A girl: a pretty blonde, of above average height and very well built. There can be no doubt as to this latter fact because of her clothes, or rather the lack of them. Standing next to the stool she is, wearing only a pair of ultra-skin-tigh...

From Blushes 15 Everyone — or almost everyone — called her Didi, though it wasn’t her proper name. Sometimes when she was excited she would stutter it. Sometimes when she was being spanked, that is, and it was awful being spanked. Most awful, too, when her tight blue knicks were carefully rolled down for it and she was aware of the naughty exposure of her pert, smooth cheeks and the cleft between them which she would tighten defensively as a leathery palm rose and fell, stinging, stinging, burning. Sometimes now, Didi had to take her own knickers off, and she could never decide whether to show her bottom first or her… or her… or her pussy as it was called. So sometimes she stood sideways and pushed them down, but then that showed her puff and her bottom, too, so it was difficult. Today she had to go and help old Mr Jenkins, though she hadn’t wanted to, but her stepmother had said he was a nice man and couldn’t manage on his own ...