Room 2D

From Roué 30 ‘But of course, my dear,’ the elderly gentleman said in answer to his daughter’s request that he look after Mandy, her sixteen-year-old daughter. He squeezed her hand and said in reassuring tones: ‘I’ll take good care of her — don’t you worry. ‘It’ll only be for a couple of days,’ the woman explained. ‘But with Leonard away on business… and now this conference up in Scotland… of course, I don’t  have  to go…’ ‘You go to your conference,’ the old boy interjected. ‘She’ll be alright with me.’ ‘Are you  sure  you don’t mind, pop?’ ‘ Mind?!  — perish the thought. How could I possibly  mind  looking after my own granddaughter? It’ll be a pleasure.’ The woman patted his hand ‘She’s not sugar and spice and all things nice, you know, pop.’ The man chortled. ‘What girl  is ? I recall having to tan  your  backside on more than one occasion.  You  were hardly a little angel, my dear.’ His daughter smiled, recall...

From Roué 28 It’s always the same when Uncle Oliver punishes me. Whatever I happen to be wearing I am made to go to my room and change into these silly clothes. He bought them a year or so ago. The knickers are the skimpiest pair he could get hold of and as you can see afford me very little in the way of protection when I have bent over. They cut right into my bum so that my poor sit-upon is almost completely bare. The vest has ridiculously large arm-holes, thanks to a nifty bit of alteration by Uncle. This, as you can see, was done so that when yours truly is in the correct position yours truly’s boobs hang out. He likes boobs does Uncle Oliver though he quite clearly prefers bottoms — mine especially. I have to stand there like that for simply ages while he sits and makes comments on my appearance. ‘You  are  growing into a big girl now, Tina,’ he’ll say or: ‘What a fine young bottom you have, Tina.’ I blush like crazy ...

A spot of poetry, from Roué 2, referenced by Uncle George in his comments on a Culver original . A summer school-day, and it’s quarter past four, Timid and pale, Rosie knocks on the door. A familiar voice summons, she enters the room, The sight of the cane sounds the loud knell of doom. The lecture is brief, all heard before, This isn’t the first time she’s been through that door. The stern old Headmaster, wielding his cane, Prevails upon pretty Miss Rosemary Payne To lift up her skirt and reach down to the floor, And to take down her navy blue knickers once more. ‘For the third time this month, mark you!’ says the Head, ‘And mark you I shall, as I’ve already said.’ ‘I gave you fair warning, only last week, And now I shall cane you for having the cheek To ignore impositions, judiciously set, It seems you must learn that you’re not teacher’s pet!’ Five hundred lines, which Alas! she’s forgotten, And now she must bend for lines caned on her bottom. She shuffles her feet, her plump buttoc...

From Roué 27 It’s a game we have all played at parties usually with the family! ‘And the consequence was…’ But for the dedicated chastiser ‘consequences’ are of vital importance, they are meant to be savoured at least as much as the actual chastisement. And so this month our artist has elected to portray in colour and in black and white four of the after-effects of exemplary punishment on a selection of young miscreants. We hope you find them to your taste. ----//---- He didn’t cane her that often, Mr Wilkins that is. And it was never a spanking… always the cane. As Deputy Head he was allowed to give her up to twelve strokes… a round dozen as he liked to remind her… a dozen round was his little joke… the roundness of her pretty bottom he jested. He’d never given her twelve strokes… not yet anyway… he put an upper limit of ten on a sixteen-year-old as long as she behaved herself. She’d tried to please him this afternoon after school holding tight to the edge of the desk with b...

From Roué 26 Frightened, tearful soft thighs twitching, trembling hands between her knees, Pushing skirt folds even deeper, Pressing hard in case she pees. Julie’s waiting for a spanking, Sitting there outside his room, Poor scared Julie sitting, squirming, Waiting for the crack of doom. Through the closed door of his study, Come the gasps and sudden squeals, Crisp hard smacks on Susan’s botty, Making Susan kick her heels. Julie winces at the wailing, Softly wriggling chubby bum, Thinks of Susan, long legs flailing, Tight against Headmaster’s tum. Now there’s only Susan’s sobbing, Teacher’s hand has ceased to smack, Julie thinks of Sue’s sore bottom, And her nerve begins to crack. Fingers fumble at the door jamb, Key’s inserted, door lock clicks, Winsome teenaged pretty Julie, Eases crotch of tight brief knicks. Oak door opens, out comes Susan, Hot flushed cheeks all wet with tears, Rubbing smarting crimson buttocks, Adding fuel t...

Story from Roué 20 , following on from Head Girl . Yes, Gillian Blair of course. Head Girl at Greenfields Comprehensive and last seen cycling towards her headmaster’s house on that lovely early summer Saturday afternoon. An afternoon which Gillian is unconsciously making even more attractive by choosing to wear one of those brief full skirts which when you’re pedalling just will  not  keep down, and which is giving passers-by a more or less complete view of those lovely long smoothly-rounded thighs. And giving them additionally, whenever she forgets to grab the aforementioned skirt every few minutes, a view of brief, rather tight, pale pink knickers as well. Gillian, indeed, who in cycling over to Mr Kendall’s house this afternoon could well be going to get more than she bargains for. Because from what we know it seems that Mr Kendall very likely has definite designs on his Head Girl this afternoon. Is planning in fact,...