Room 2D

From Februs 16, the first episode of a serial by Anthony Vallance beautifully illustrated by Paula Meadows Cherri sat on the edge of her chair as her new employer, Mr Victor J. Smedley, pored over her references and papers. His gruff, self-made features showed no signs of being impressed, the stony expression on his face was pure Yorkshire granite. Finally he looked up, thick grey eyebrows gathered up on his furrowed brow. ‘Book learning,’ he stated, his voice nothing but contempt. ‘But I graduated first on my course,’ Cherri started to explain, suddenly hurt that her achievements were being dismissed so lightly. ‘Aye, that’s right, you came top in your class, so you’re good at book learning,’ he conceded, ‘but it’s books all the same.’ ‘Yes, Mr Smedley,’ she agreed, sighing resignedly. ‘When I were a lad,’ Mr Smedley told her, standing up and walking over to the window, ‘things were different.’ ‘Yes, Mr Smedley,’ Cherri murmured softly. ‘There were no book learning for us

From Fessée 11 From the last edition of Fessée, so again no suggestions for the backstory were ever published. Can anyone furnish one via the Comments section?

From Fessée 10 Another one with no suggestions at the time. Can anyone tell the story behind this one via the Comments section?

From Fessée 9 Letters from Fessée 10 This picture could easily be misinterpreted, the nude young woman gives the best clue, the naughty, aristocratic look on her face, can she really be the maid? No she certainly is not, she is Lady Annabel Fanshawe the daughter of the house who is having daily lesbian sex sessions with the more than willing kitchen-maid Elsie who is standing in the doorway, wide-eyed, half in horror and half enjoying her lesbian lover’s painful plight. His Lordship and Her Ladyship, who were away for a month’s grouse shooting, would have been horrified if they’d known of their daughter’s daily lesbian ‘nooky’ sessions with — of all people — the kitchen-maid, but of course the servants all knew about it and blackmailed Lady Annabel into the ultimate humiliation of being a helpless plaything in the hands of, what she considered, those unspeakable, low, beastly, social inferiors. Nude, wearing only Elsie’s kitch

‘We’re not finished yet young lady…’ The spanking was awful. Then he caned her and she cried like a little girl. But this is the part she hates the most. ‘Let’s have a little check shall we? I know what you young sluts get up to. I’m sure you’ve let the boys have a good feel of this already, haven’t you.’ ‘No! I haven’t! I really haven’t.’ ‘Well you say that. But it feels to me like you’ve already had a finger or two up here. I’ve barely touched you and you’re dripping wet already. You dirty little thing. Come on, open those legs. Let’s see if you’re still intact shall we.’

A story from Janus 26 by R.T. Mason. If you walked out past the holiday chalets you came to a stretch of beach where nobody much seemed to go although it was attractive enough, scrub land and the open sea with a narrow ribbon of beach be­tween. That Thursday afternoon, with a hint of rain in the brisk offshore wind, there seemed to be no one there at all and she had walked for perhaps half a mile quite alone. And then she saw him, a lone figure standing gazing out to sea. Afterwards, looking back, it was tempting to think she sensed something about him, some special quality, even then. But she knew that really that was merely being fanciful. She had been there almost a week, the first half of a two-week holiday with her parents and though she would never have admitted it to them, she  was  a bit bored. Due, without doubt, primarily to the fact that Bob wasn’t there. Bob, her fiancé (or due to formally become so in a month’s time),