Room 2D

From Blushes 14 with Lucie Martin There was the accustomed high-pitched whistling sound as the cane blurred through the air. It bit deep into the soft, naked bottom awaiting it. For a fraction of a second, it seemed to bury itself deep. Then it arced away, leaving behind a miniature tramline of pink-red pain. It was the first stroke of a promised twelve. William Clifford, Senior Master at St Osith’s, contemplated the weal with mingled satisfaction and regret. Sonia Benson, who was bending over before him, fingers to toes, should have been his star pupil… a front-runner for University Honours. Instead she was graded in the lower half of the Fifth Remove. He noted that the girl had only jerked up momentarily, emitting a brief, breathless gasp, before returning to her straight-legged bending posture. There was no doubt that the Benson family bred their girls both tough and obstinate. William Clifford recalled readily to mind So...

From Roué 43 with Lucie Martin. There was a second photo-set in that issue that was apparently unattached to any story (as was Roué’s wont) and also featured the gamine Lucie, so I’ve included that here too as a bonus. Sharon eyed the elderly man questioningly. As if reading her thoughts, her grandfather repeated the instruction. ‘Take off your tie, you silly little girl. Surely even  you  can understand a perfectly simple order such as that?’ She had understood the order alright, but what she didn’t understand was the reasoning behind it. Why on earth, she asked herself, was it necessary to take off one’s tie for a spanking? Appreciative of the damaging effects this procrastination might have on her bottom, Sharon’s hands went to the knot of her school tie, loosened it and cast it to one side. ‘Good,’ her grandfather announced chirpily. ‘That wasn’t too difficult, was it?’ The sarcastic tone didn’t go unnoticed by the girl. ‘And now,’ he continued, ‘we’ll have your blouse off...

From Blushes Supplement 11 with Lucie Martin Uncle Robert always came to visit during the first or second week of school holidays. Janet hoped it would be the first week since, as the days of the second week passed, the tension within her mounted unbearably. Silly, though, to say that she hoped. She feared. What she really hoped was that he would never come at all. He wasn’t actually her uncle, she knew. No more than Aunt Esther was a real aunt. Ever since the age of 10, Janet knew she had been fostered out and the terms Uncle and Aunt were merely used as a matter of convenience. Not truly belonging, gave the girl a sense of isolation and loneliness. Through her early teens, she turned in upon herself; became secretive and shy and found it difficult to make friends. Now that she was 17, things had not improved. If anything, they were worse. Janet became more secretive, too. She would never have dreamed of telling anyone about th...