Room 2D

Story from Blushes 8 ‘Can’t have it girl — can’t have our netball team losing to St Aubrey’s!’ ‘N-no, sir,’ Sally’s fingers twiddle nervously together behind her back. She looks down at the floor feeling the flush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks whilst the lecture continues. She can feel the stickiness still on her body, not having been allowed time enough even for a shower before being summoned to the gym to be given one of the sports master’s ‘de-briefings’. Not that she’s wearing any — briefs, that is. Knickers aren’t permitted to be worn under shorts. The backs of her fidgety hands rest on the outswell of her bottom behind her back and she can feel the warmth of her body against her knuckles. ‘Not good enough — I won’t have my team losing to that rabble from St Aubrey’s — d’you understand?’ ‘Yes sir,’ she’s seen the cane dangling by its crook handle from the cleat that you wind the rope around that raises and lowers ...

Story from Blushes 8 ‘ Six  sir!’ Her voice is frantically high-pitched. ‘Ooh-s-six sir — six!’ she splutters desperate sobs with her face against the desk top whilst the pale impress of the cane’s last stroke pinkens and fattens into a sixth rosy weal across the under-bits of both bum cheeks. ‘S-six, sir —’ Her knees flex disobediently as she squirms her hips against the front edge of the desk. Last term six would have been it, the maximum; last term she would have been allowed up, having counted each stroke out loud and not having earned herself an extra two for ‘making a fuss’. But that was last term. ‘Stick it up girl —’ the cane flicks across the top of her thighs, just above her half-lowered knickers. ‘Oooo — sir — y-yes sir —’ she straightens her legs and hollows her back; apple-round buttocks push themselves up. full and pert and simply pleading for the next stroke in their helplessness. The cane  thwacks ...

Story from Janus 37 by Simon Banks The beautiful grounds of St Millicent’s School for Girls were basking in the lovely cloudless June morning, but for James Mackie, Deputy Head, the splendid grounds, the beautiful morning, meant nothing. The dour Scot, fiftyish, tall and thin, bore a typically grim expression on his angular rimless-spectacled face. It was now halfway through the last week of Summer Term. So in just a couple of days another batch of what Mr Mackie regarded as his natural prey — the Sixth Form girls — would be leaving and would be forever beyond his gasp. Or more specifically beyond the reach of his cane. The thought made Mr Mackie grind his teeth. Mr James Mackie could rightly be regarded as a man with a chip on his shoulder. He had never been able to forget his own background — a poor Tayside family and meagre State education — and bitterly contrasted this with that of the St Millicent’s girls, almost all of t...

From Blushes 13. Following on from  The Price! T his is the final part of the Mr Bartlow trilogy. ‘What d’you think?’ asked Alison. It was morning break the day after Alison had climbed into Penny’s bed and while intimately stroking the latter had whisperingly suggested that they set up Mandy with Mr Bartlow. It was this that was being discussed as the two of them sat in a secluded corner of the school grounds. Penny shivered, thinking of last night, thinking also of her own earlier experiences at the hands of Mr Bartlow. ‘I… I don’t know,’ she said hesitantly. ‘She deserves something,’ stated Alison. ‘The  pig . She’s always making some snide remark.’ The snide remarks, though, seemed largely true, especially those relating to Mr Bartlow. But Mandy  had  been pretty insensitive about Penny’s problems with Miss Kingston. ‘We wouldn’t want to get into trouble.’ Penny tended to be of a cautious nature. ‘A...