Room 2D

A story with a French connection to mark Bastille Day. From Blushes 11 In the middle of the school gymnasium stands a vaulting horse. A girl — blonde, well-built, in her late teens — is bent over it by touching her toes, gym knickers lowered to mid-thigh, her bottom bare. To the girl’s left stands a senior mistress holding a 3ft 4in punishment cane. Behind the girl, standing near the gym wall with a view of both cane and target are two other people: a form mistress, and myself, Pierre Deauville, a teacher from France on exchange for the summer term. Fiction? No, for I was really there, one hot summer’s day at an exclusive girls school in Berkshire, England on 29 th  June 1984. An invited guest to witness, and, dare I say it, to enjoy  le vice Anglais  corporal punishment administered to young female bottoms. Two days before term started, I arrived at Kingsmead School from Paris to meet the headmistress and settle...

Photo-story from Janus 89 & 90, a prequel to Elixir of Life . Not much of a story, to be honest, but a nice photo-set of Jenny Close. If you call yourself ‘Chelsea’, in the accent of a region no SW3 estate agent would dream of dealing with, you’ve got to expect a bit of trouble now and then. Particularly when you run into someone like Madam, a very meticulous lady whose tragic past experiences have conditioned her to react with fury to any sign of falseness or pretension — real or imagined. This gaffe with her name alarmingly triggers just that kind of sarcasm which Chelsea has never been able to cope with. Giving way is the only way she knows how to handle a sour, critical, supercilious bitch of Madam’s calibre, and angry men who tell her she should have her bottom spanked or her selfish, oblivious misbehaviour. When she needs to keep in with people, Chelsea has learned that it can be better to pay with a de...

Another AI enhanced repost of a favourite story. Here is After the Match from Uniform Girls 2. ‘Your girls were rather over-matched, wouldn’t you say, Henry? Eh?’ ‘Perhaps,’ said Henry, who didn’t much care about tennis tournaments and inter-school rivalry. He took the visiting school’s headmaster into the pavilion, where they were offered strawberries and cream by a shy, wide-eyed girl who seemed somewhat overawed to be in the presence of two headmasters; Sally, who found being in the presence of just one headmaster, Henry, sufficiently intimidating in the normal way. Henry thanked her and pictured her chubby young bottom in its navy blue knickers as she walked away self-consciously, skirt swinging neatly from her hips. ‘Have to have your revenge when you come to us, later in the term.’ ‘I dare say we shall,’ said Henry, still engrossed in his recollection of the strawberry-bringer’s plump and bouncy buttocks as she’d squirm...