Room 2D

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 Uniform Girls 31 ‘Things are different in the private sector, Nurse. In addition to the salary of course. We like to think we can show much more concern for the wishes of the patient. Not like the National Health. With us the wishes of the patient are all important.’ That had been Mrs Keenlan yesterday. Mrs Keenlan was Matron. And now Mr Page was saying very much the same thing. Stressing it. Angela says, ‘Yes, Mr Page. Yes I understand.’ She is in his study. In his house, a quite grand affair standing in its own substantial grounds out in the country. Presumably this house is a sign that running a private nursing agency is not a bad thing financially. Mr Page is the Director. Of the Paramount Nursing Agency. Angela has just arrived, ten minutes ago, in her little Mini. ‘Every new girl has an interview with Mr Page,’ Mrs Keenlan has said. ‘He likes to see you at his place. Tomorrow at 5 o’clock.’ So here she is. ...

From Uniform Girls 5 Another new-comer to Higgins’ cane; an innocent who thinks that girls never get their knickers taken down by Headmasters, or Wardens, and that a spanking over three pairs of pants is nothing to worry about. Just how wrong can a girl be. It had been a good idea to take the quiet route, thought Hermione Flynn as the expensive car sped through the Berkshire countryside. Apart from the purr of the BMW’s engine, the only sound was the evening chirruping of the starlings and thrushes. Occasionally Mrs Flynn would throw out some comment about the flora and fauna gliding past, but there was no reply from the back seat. Nor could there be. Geraldine had lost her voice. She had shouted herself hoarse at the hockey international — it had been so exciting, especially when England had rallied at the end and just taken the lead in the final seconds. Geraldine had waved her union jack for all she was worth, yelling in a va...