Room 2D

The card read: ‘Darling Annabelle. Because it’s your birthday you get to choose which order I use the canes in. And now you are sixteen I have an extra little something for you. Well, maybe not that little.’

 

The spanking had gone on for nearly 20 minutes now. Tilly was sobbing and howling, tears streaming from her eyes, hands frantically grabbing at anything within reach. She bucked and squirmed and wriggled on Eric’s lap, her desperate movements adding to the considerable pleasure he was feeling already. ‘Come along girl,’ he said between hard smacks on her deliciously red bottom. ‘Let’s be having the truth shall we? I can keep doing this all evening if need be.’ Part of him hoped she would continue protesting her innocence. He had found Tilly and Violet behind the church, whispering and giggling to each other. When confronted they said they had been told to wait there after choir practice because the Reverend wanted to speak to them in his office. They were in an excitable state because during the practice session they had been told that the choir had been accepted into the Inter-Parish Choir Challenge and it seemed more than likely they would be travelling to London for the finals. Th...

A new offering from Basil Thank you to everyone who has commented on my previous stories. They are much appreciated and provide an impetus for me to write more of the same. If anyone has any particular requests do let me know. The catalyst for this story was the last few sentences of The Village Hall and the accompanying drawing. Annabel climbed up the familiar loft ladder while the vicar stood patiently to one side. As she neared the hatch, the ladder creaked and juddered under the weighty bulk of the vicar as he began his own ascent, challenging the strength of the rickety wooden steps. Annabel instinctively gripped the handrails tightly and stopped, feeling that the whole thing was going to come crashing down at any moment. The vicar appeared not to have noticed any possible danger, his attention being entirely taken up by Annabel’s knicker-clad bum just a few feet above his head, the angle of his view lending it a decepti...

‘I found the cane old boy, Silly little thing had tried to hide it in with her hockey stick! That deserves another 12 at least I think.’

The second part of this original story by Culver. Last week we read of Alice Redway’s suffering at the hands of Reverend Crowley and Mr Sedgewick. Now her friend Pippa East is in the firing line… During his telling of the torrid tale of the tutoring of Alice, Sedgewick grew as animated as it’s possible for a chap to get over a quiet drink in the village pub. His fellow chorister and drinking partner, Thorndyke, listened intently to every detail, imagining events vividly. Yes, he reflected, it was good to know that Alice Redway, that sullen little vixen, had at last been getting what had been coming to her. Much as he was enthralled by Sedgewick’s narrative, Thorndyke was bursting with impatience to recount a recent experience of his own, the story of how he’d got his hands on ‘Miss Goody Two Shoes’ Pippa East. He gestured towards Sedgewick’s nearly empty glass. ‘It’s my round,’ he said, and headed to the bar. The choirmaster at St Mark’s, Edwin Phipps, likes to treat himself to numero...

Taking a rest from collages, Culver has turned his hand to prose, inspired by the drawings and comments in the Reverend White series by Darcy . In two parts — the second to follow next week. We might reasonably assume that morning and evening services in an Anglican church in a rural village on a typical sleepy Sunday wouldn’t provide much by way of excitement for gentlemen of the choir. Yet seating arrangements in the choir stalls at St Mark’s should give us pause for thought — along with certain other considerations. It so happens that adult male choristers are seated directly opposite the soprano stalls. And the front row of the soprano stalls is exclusively occupied by girl choristers in their late teens, a number of whom are provocatively attractive. Every Sunday the ringing of the church bell summons choir and congregation to Matins, Holy Communion and Evensong. And if you’re a middle-aged male chorister, that doleful sound will likely put a spring in your step: it’s time to og...

‘Come along now Vicky. On your knees and hold Mr Jones’ hands. It was his window you smashed so it’s only fair he gets a good look at you while I cane that naughty little bottom of yours. And if you ask him nicely he might agree to let you off a few strokes…’

A story with an illustration from Darcy The weekends were always Cyril's favourite time of the weekend. Unsurprisingly, Violet, his young niece, felt differently. Since she’d come to stay with her uncle while her mother ‘got better’, which was how the family referred to her occasional visits to the rehab clinic, she had grown to dread the end of the week. On school nights she would receive the occasional spanking. But, on Friday, Cyril cleared the evening so that he might properly administer the corrective discipline a wayward young girl like Violet needed. After dinner at 6.30 she would be sent to shower and make herself presentable, before meeting in the lounge at 7.30, hair neatly brushed, a modicum of makeup permitted and in her school uniform. Cyril would lecture her as to the dangers of drink and drugs. The lecherous desires of young men. The temptations that a girl’s own physical cravings created. All this while she squirmed and wriggled over his lap as he spanked her te...

‘Come on. Show us how you do it you little slut.’

The club members ensure that the new waitress’s first night is a memorable one

Reverend White gives generously of his time to make sure the girls in the choir stay focused

Back by popular demand... The Reverend White could never be accused of sparing the rod