Room 2D

Story from Blushes Supplement 6 ‘He b…b…beat me!,’ Jane howled. Sitting in one of the four twin-bedded dorms, she rocked back and forth with her hands over her face — ‘All right, now, all right,’ Linda soothed, plumping her own firm young bottom down on the same bed and circling the other girl’s shoulders with a comforting arm. ‘He didn’t really, Jane, and we don’t use that word here. It was a tawse, wasn’t it — a thick strap with a split end to it?’ ‘It doesn’t matter wh…what it was,’ sobbed Jane, disregarding her companion’s arm and falling sideways so that her tear-streaked cheek rested on the pillow, her body twisted awkwardly. It was bad enough that she had been made to bring her Sixth Form uniform to wear here and — worse — to have discovered when she had first opened her suitcase on arrival that all her dinky, pastel-coloured panties had been removed before she left and replaced with blue serge ones that she never seen be...

The third instalment, from Blushes Supplement 3 At a local theatre in the London suburbs, the manager Roger Weaver was lucky enough to have a pool of willing labour as usherettes: the students at the nearby drama school. The fact that he chose to recruit principally the girls was no accident. Not only did they work harder, as they were keen to participate in the theatre world — even as usherettes — to watch professionals perform on stage. Perhaps more importantly for Roger, it gave him the occasional opportunity to indulge his penchant for giving some of the girls’ backsides what he euphemistically called ‘a good whacking’. In previous issues, we met Cecilia who, after losing £10 of programme money (with a little help from a dishonest colleague, Becky) was given the option of corporal punishment to avoid dismissal. Cecilia’s bare bottom was subsequently spanked with a wooden brush and in a later session, in front of a hidden invited audience, was given eight strokes with Roger’s cane...

From Blushes Supplement 22 Today, just after lunch, I saw young Sally down by the old man's shed. Just hanging around I think. I watched her from my allotment, over the hedge. It must be a good ten years or so since they moved into the village. She's a good-looking girl, no doubt about that. Lovely shoulder-length curls of reddish hair, bobbing around as she turns her head this way and that. And she's grown quite tall since her earlier teenage years. I wondered what she was doing, on her own, down by the shed. She definitely looked uneasy as though she hoped no-one was watching. She couldn't see me, though I was so close I swear I could feel her perfume on the sultry warm air. She was looking for something. First she stretched up, feeling along near the top of the door, and I saw her nipples pressing out against the taut material of her tee-shirt. I must confess I've often wondered what she looks like. I mean, ...