Room 2D

Story from Roué 1 ‘Four-thirty sharp after school then young lady,’ she heard the headmaster’s voice as if it were in another room, ‘and I mean sharp, don’t keep me waiting.’ Mr Watkins ushered the pretty young girl out of his study door into the old corridor of the Edwardian wing of the co-ed Grammar School, and for twenty seconds or so he peered over his half-rimmed spectacles at the retreating figure walking slowly and disconsolately back towards the newer part of the building. To his pupils Mr Watkins was quite an awe-inspiring, austere man of about sixty, invariably thought to be lacking in human warmth; a stern disciplinarian of the ‘old school’, a ‘just beast’ as most of the boys and girls described him. Every pupil without exception would have been astounded to have been able to read what was going through Mr Watkins’ mind as he followed intently the trim figure of Susan Miller as she disappeared from view; he almost reg

From Roué 5, the last of these letters. I have found that it is one thing to build up a relationship with a girl, in fact it happens all the time, and is very often initiated by the girl herself without any encouragement from me, but quite another thing to take the irretraceable step of suggesting an actual physical punishment. This isn’t something to be hurried. The approach has to be oblique. Firstly the idea of punishment has to be introduced. Punishment as such does not, of course, have any official place in a student nurse’s training. The girls are assumed to be adult and ‘self-motivated’ and therefore responsible for their own education to a large extent. On the other hand, the majority of them are only just out of school, and to a degree still under the jurisdiction of their parents, so some kind of authority is nothing new to them. Reinforcing this already existing respect for authority is the most sensible way to set ab

From Roué 4 Perhaps you’ll remember that in my last letter I promised I’d let you know how I’d got on with Rosemary, one of the new intake of student nurses. Well that has reminded me of something else which cropped up and I made a mental note that I’d mention it next time I wrote. I think it’s quite an interesting point, so perhaps you will too. I was in the canteen a couple of weeks ago, chatting with Sister Mackenzie, who is in charge of off-the-premises accommodation for the students. She and I know each other very well, by which I mean she knows my ‘games’ with the girls  and I know perfectly well that she enjoys the same kind of fun in much the same way, although it’s not often we talk about it, preferring to keep pretty much to ourselves on the subject. Anyway, we were having coffee when I noticed Rosemary, the new student, coming in with a couple of her friends. I was rather surprised that she spoke to me; I wouldn’t hav

From Roué 3 Extract from the Chairman’s Report to the Governors, with special reference to the important matter of Discipline. …Of course, the relationships which I build up between myself and my student nurses isn’t entirely disciplinary. I mean it stands to reason that if a girl comes to my rooms, voluntarily takes her knickers down and, however reluctantly, submits to the kind of discipline I like to employ, and I mean the snap and crack of a nice cane across her naked bottom, the girl knowing perfectly well that I have no actual authority to do any such thing, and if she then comes back again for another dose of the same thing, then obviously, whether she realises it or not, she’s coming for reasons of her own which must clearly be of a sexual nature. A circumstance which I would be stupid not to take the fullest advantage of, don’t you agree? So, as I say, sometimes punishment isn’t why a girl comes. She comes for the tas

A nice story from Roué 2. Sadly no pictures. The little upstairs room is bathed in the light of the afternoon sun, shining on the yellow patterned wallpaper and glinting on a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles behind which two bright and eager eyes stare unblinkingly. A bird twitters outside, and the sound of the steady flow of traffic floats in through the half-open window. Quietly, the softest and most poignant of sounds, a half-stifled catching of the breath whispers from between two petulant lips. Two eyes, red-rimmed yet alarmingly pretty, wander from the close-up texture of the sunlit wallpaper to the shiny leather strap which pat-pat-pats against the coverlet of the bed, and then to the ticking bedside clock, and finally to the eyes which still glitter menacingly behind the spectacles. ‘P-please —?’ The eyes flicker to her face. ‘What is it?’ ‘Can I p-pull my knickers up now please?’ ‘Have you learnt your lesson then?’