Room 2D

From Blushes 27, continuing on from Carriage & Posture . Veronica struggling, weeping, blubbering; bottom squirming, breaths coming in short gasps, legs kicking, hair tossing. A funny lump pressing up under her tummy. Her legs spreading wide, thoughtlessly, immodestly, Mr Mildmore’s hand spanking and stinging her bum… An hour later Veronica was standing straight and erect with her back to the fire. Or her bottom. Because it was her bottom that could feel the direct rays of the flickering flames. Her back was covered, in the tight little vest which reached no further down than her slim waist. And as the little vest was all she had on that meant that the ripe swell of her bottom was quite bare. The cheeks glowing pleasantly — as they had glowed earlier, but not so pleasantly. Mr Mildmore’s elegant sitting room with the books along one wall and that cosy fire glowing in the stone fireplace. Just Veronica standing still and straig

First part of two, from Blushes 27 ‘Are you wearing knickers, Veronica?’ Mr Mildmore smiled. ‘I’m sure you are. All nice girls do, don’t they. But would you take them off? Please.’ The eyes of the girl who was Veronica Casfield became sharply wider, rounder. Rather nice blue eyes with long lashes. In a pretty, softly-featured face framed in shortish blonde hair. A pretty girl with also a nice figure in blouse and skirt, stockings, sensible shoes with chunky heels. Her coat which she had worn on the train journey down here, and then in Mr Mildmore’s car from the station, lay on a chair by the window of this cosy room. Mr Mildmore had, not surprisingly, asked her, told her, to take her coat off. But now… The pretty face was flushing. No, he couldn’t really have said that. ‘Knickers, Veronica. You are wearing knickers?’ She nodded, numb. ‘Well I want you to take them off. A girl’s bottom, her buttocks, is all important in dep

From Blushes 20 ‘ Clarissa! ’ The Reverend Francis Towney intoned the word to himself as he cycled along the lane back to the vicarage. A lovely June afternoon made into something superlative by thoughts of that quite heavenly  Clarissa . He tried little extra conceits of his own.  Clarissima .  Clarissabel . What a simply stunning girl. Attempting for the moment to picture the stunning Clarissa with her bottom bare the Reverend Towney almost failed to negotiate a bend in the lane and very nearly finished up in the hedge. Clarissa Wrangham . Niece at the big house, Wrangham Grange. A tall, shapely, succulent 17 and there since yesterday, for the school summer holidays. A glorious 10 weeks. Glorious because he, Francis Towney, had been requested by Lady Celia Wrangham to do something about Clarissa’s history. Which apparently was not up to scratch. ‘According to her school report, Mr Towney, the gel is making very heavy weather of it.’ Francis Towney of course had read History