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Friday, 21 June 2019

Academic Achievement

From Blushes 18
The mousey head, hair cut short, bowed over the desk; a young brow was wrinkled. It could have been puzzlement or simple frustration. Why did she have to be put through this extra tuition week after week? To be precise, two evenings a week? With all that it entailed. It just wasn’t fair!
In her secret heart, Valerie knew why, needless to say. It was because her parents had both been academics. Now Aunt Georgina — her legal guardian — had taken over. As her parents had instructed in their will, she was to be trained to the same high levels.
It was not fair. Those intellectual peaks were out of reach for her. Aunt Georgina had always been insistent, however. Not only College, but ‘Private Tuition’ as well. That was the way!
An obedient girl, who loved her now departed parents, Valerie accepted the regime imposed upon her. Mentally and physically demanding as it was. Still not yet quite 18, and not in control of her small inheritance, there was little else she could do.
Bitter and humiliating as it was.
How was it possible to write an essay about the life of Alexandrians in 100AD? Had her Tutor even ever given her any books on the subject? She couldn’t remember. In fact her brain was becoming bemused by the tasks constantly being bestowed upon it. Surely that couldn’t be right? Valerie was near to tears. She was well aware that what she had written was futile. Not her fault, but still futile. She also knew the consequences.
Oh it was so unfair!
Was it her parents’ fault or Aunt Georgina’s over-reaction to their last wishes? Either way, Valerie knew it was making her life an utter misery. If not to put too fine a point on it, a torment.
Yet, somehow, she told herself, I’ll have to go on enduring it, for just a few months longer. Then I’ll be free. Free! She scarcely dare contemplate the ecstasy of it at that moment.
Mr Bartholomew would be back within ten minutes.
Valerie’s stomach churned. She knew, for sure, what was going to happen. Yet again.
‘Well, how have we been getting on, Valerie?’ Mr Bartholomew usually started by adopting a jolly, avuncular tone; but, beneath it all, he wasn’t in the least bit jolly, as Valerie knew.
‘Not very well… I’m afraid, sir. It’s not a subject I’m well up in. Early History, I mean,’ she said hopelessly.
‘There are plenty of books about,’ said Mr Bartholomew, waving a hand at the loaded shelves. ‘You shouldn’t just read up on the subjects we are covering at the moment. There’s a whole wide world of knowledge waiting between those covers. That’s the way to get on.’
Get on… get… on! That’s what she was always being told. Oh how she hated it all! ‘Th-there’s so much…’ she began.
‘Just bring me your essay,’ said Mr Bartholomew, a shade wearily, it seemed. He sat down in his chair and Valerie handed him a sheet of paper. Eyebrows went up. ‘Is this all? And you’ve only done half a page anyway. I do believe you’re deliberately perverse, Valerie.’
‘No…no, sir… it’s just that I don’t know the subject…’
‘If, my girl, you had looked carefully at the course outline I gave you a few weeks ago, you would have noted that Early Egyptian History was one of the books for recommended reading in your spare time.’
‘I… don’t get much spare time, sir.’
‘Don’t get cheeky with me, Valerie!’ All avuncular jollity had now quite disappeared. Mr Bartholomew was looking stern and aggrieved. A little flushed, too. His eyes wandered across to where the cane hung. Should he… possibly?
‘Oh no… not that, sir… please!’ cried Valerie, in sudden dread.
No… possibly not. He’d only used it on a couple of occasions. It had to be reserved for something special. This was just a simple slip-up. Still, the girl had to be reminded of the necessity of applying her mind to a greater extent.
‘I am sorry to say, Valerie, if you don’t show a distinct improvement in your work in the near future, I shall have to use that cane far more frequently.’
‘Oh no… no!’ A kind of panic gripped Valerie. ‘I can’t do the impossible,’ she cried out. ‘I can’t make my brain do things beyond it!’
‘You will be surprised, Valerie,’ said Mr Bartholomew, clasping his fingers together, ‘how a cane across your bottom can stimulate it to do so!’
‘Your aunt has authorised the use of the cane. You know that.’
‘Other girls don’t get it,’ protested Valerie. She was near to tears. Tears of anger and frustration. Fear as well. She knew she was not capable of a great deal of improvement… so it was inevitable she would be caned more frequently.
‘You are no ordinary girl, Valerie,’ said Mr Bartholomew unctuously. ‘You have always been destined for higher things.’
‘I don’t want higher things,’ said Valerie sulkily.
‘I told you not to be cheeky, Valerie.’ The voice was sharp again. He sat up, looking brisk. ‘Now, I shall deal with this latest effort of yours at once. After that, we’ll consider the future.’ Valerie experienced the customary sickness in the pit of her stomach. It was all going to happen again; as it had done so often before. Did Aunt Georgina really know how often she was spanked? Did she even care? He was patting his thighs, face now even more flushed? Lately, Valerie had begun to wonder whether all this was for her benefit or his. ‘Come along, my dear. Let’s get it over with. A dozen will suffice, I think.’
Well, that was something, thought Valerie; about the least she ever got.
Over the familiar thighs she went. Beneath her was the familiar pattern of the carpet. Her nails clawed into the pile as she felt her skirt pulled. This was always one of the worst parts of it. Almost anyway. At the outset, the very first time, she had begged and pleaded to be allowed to keep her knickers on. Mr Bartholomew had almost laughed. ‘My dear girl,’ he had said, ‘they’re made of thick blue serge. They’d take away half the sting. I’m not having that.’ Still she had pleaded. Begged to be allowed to talk to her aunt about it. He had conceded that and she had telephoned. ‘Don’t be a stupid child,’ had come the immediate response — much to Valerie’s shocked dismay, ‘an effective spanking must be given on the bare. So tell your tutor to get on with it.’
Thus it was, crimson-cheeked, sobbing with shame, her knickers had been pulled down that first time. It had happened many times since — and there was still always the shame of it. Burning shame that was like a pain within her; until that pain was overtaken by the pain of her burning bum-cheeks.
Cool air; nakedness from the waist down. He never began at once. It was deliberate, she supposed, to get her more tensed up. She never looked back up at him; she didn’t want to see those staring eyes. Gloating eyes, she was sure.
Then came the first slap. Hard across the centre. A pause. Then another. In exactly the same place. Ah… that hurt. The third. Again in the same place. Ohh… that hurt even more. Valerie uttered a gasping little whimper and her bottom twisted involuntarily.
Three hard slaps on each cheek had her kicking and twisting, gasping between clenched teeth. Only three more to go. Valerie gritted her teeth more fiercely. She was determined not to cry out. But the final three quite weakened that resolution for they all fell in precisely the same place as the first three had done. As the final one smacked down resoundingly, a loud yelp of pain was torn from her. She was furious with herself but simply had been unable to help it. He liked making her yell; she guessed that; so that was why she strove, with all her might and main, not to. She was not successful very often. He knew how to give a good spanking; no doubt about that. Oh how she hated him! And her aunt. As well as the whole ridiculous academic system she was caught up in.
‘You may pull your knickers up, Valerie,’ came his voice. Though he pulled them down, it was always she who had to pull them up… and to do so, she had to get off his knees. It wasn’t always easy to hide herself as she did so. ‘Go back to your desk.’
Back she went, feeling the usual rage and shame at what she had just had to endure. It was absurd at her age. She sat down, feeling the warm glow. Actually, now that it was over, the pain wasn’t all that great. In fact, there were times, when that glow was almost pleasant. It gave her feelings inside. All the same, she would well have gone without such feelings if only she could have escaped the spanking itself. That wasn’t pleasant at all! She watched him go to the bookshelf and bring back that book on Early Egyptian History. Her heart sank. ‘I’m going to let you study this for an hour, Valerie,’ he said, ‘then you can re-write your essay.’ He put the book on the desk and turned and made for the door. ‘I sincerely hope it is better than your last effort.’
The implication of his words was obvious. Valerie’s eyes flickered nervously to the cane. Would he use that? She felt a freezing sensation inside her and hurriedly opened the book. She recalled miserably what he had said about the cane being a stimulant. Worse than that… the very thought of it was!
Valerie’s brain felt addled but she struggled away, trying to take in as much as possible in the time permitted. What a deadly chore it was! Then, all too soon, it seemed, Mr Bartholomew was back. And she was putting pen to paper again. ‘Just one more hour, Valerie,’ he said as he left again. ‘Then we’ll finish for the evening.’
Valerie was very relieved to hear it. How tired she was getting!
She struggled on and on, trying to recall as many names and dates as possible. But it was all so difficult. She hadn’t got that kind of brain. In the end, she just threw down her pen and sobbed and sobbed.
Mr Bartholomew studied the new essay, which now stretched to a page and half. He studied it in silence but, from time to time, shook his head mournfully. Valerie, at his side, couldn’t stop herself repeatedly looking at the cane. Oh surely he wouldn’t! He must see how hard she tried.
‘Better,’ he said at last — and Valerie’s heart leapt. ‘But by no means good enough.’ Her heart plummeted again. ‘I’ve a very good mind to cane you, my girl.’
Valerie felt her buttock-cheeks twitch involuntarily. ‘Oh no, please,’ she almost whined. ‘I… I tried so hard… and I’m so tired…’
‘Yes,’ he said, after a pause. ‘I can see you have made an effort. That, at least is something.’
He’s going to let me off… he is, he is, thought Valerie joyfully. ‘Yes… I really did try…’
‘However, Valerie,’ he continued, ‘I am convinced that a second spanking will help you to make a far better effort next time you come here.’ He paused. ‘Especially when you know that, if your essay is not up to the standards I demand, you certainly will be caned!’
Valerie burst into tears as, for a second time that evening, those thighs were patted. Once more the horrible rigmarole was gone through. Skirt yanked up, knickers pulled down. Her bottom was still glowing hot but, as her tutor’s hand began to whack down hard, it burned. After no more than four or five, Valerie was yelling and struggling to break free. The ever-increasing pain quickly overcame all her resolute attempts to remain silent, so as not to please him the more. She simply couldn’t help it.
‘Oooowww… aaaahhh… ooowwww!’ came her uninhibited cries. And her bottom, quite out of control, twisted frantically left and right. She had hoped, she had expected, he would stop at twelve. The same as before. But no… this time he went on to eighteen, the last six being delivered all in the same spot. Once more on the very centre of her bottom.
Oh how it blazed! It felt as if she were standing within inches of an electric fire. And it went on and on. No wonder. She had received no less than thirty really hard stingers that evening. It was so, so unfair, after she’d tried so, so hard.
‘You may pull your knickers up now, Valerie.’
She realised she was kneeling on the floor, hands pressed to her hot-throbbing flesh. She stood up and eased the blue serge knickers slowly up. She was so tender that even that contact made it hurt more.
‘Go into the bathroom and wash your face, Valerie,’ he said. ‘You’re not a pretty sight.’
And who’s fault is that, she felt like shouting out, as she walked stiffly from the room. Luckily, she thought better of it. In the privacy of the bathroom, it was not only her face which got the attention of a cold flannel. For the third time that evening, Valerie pushed down her knickers, and sighed with relief as she pressed the cold flannel to her buttocks — again and again and again.
‘That is an improvement, Valerie…’
Valerie, who had been studying Early Egyptian History during most of every waking moment over the last forty-eight hours, was exceedingly relieved to hear it. Her four-page essay was filled with facts and well-organised. She was aware of that. Resentfully, she was made aware, yet again, what power the fear of punishment had over one’s mental efforts. This, she reflected ruefully, was how it was in the last century — when the nation was great — in the days when they thrashed education and effort into young people. How maddening she should have to go through the same hoop!
‘I’m glad you approve, sir.’
‘Yes… yes… it shows what you can do.’ Mr Bartholomew looked suddenly grave. ‘Nevertheless, Valerie, there is another matter. I have just had your aunt on the telephone.’
It seemed to Valerie that her stomach turned a somersault; her nerve-ends tingled. ‘W-why… what… I don’t understand… please… what’s it about?’
‘I think you know, Valerie.’
‘No… no… really…’ But she did know. She had been rumbled. Oh Heaven help her!
‘Montague’s letter. That case all ready for your weekend flight. Everything, my child, has been discovered. To say the least, your aunt is most upset.’
Valerie found herself gulping. It had been a long-term plan. Carefully organised, between herself and Montague. How could it possibly have all gone wrong? She had been dreaming about next weekend. Freedom at last!
‘I… I’m entitled to live my own l-life…’ she protested, her voice sounding feeble.
‘Not yet,’ said Mr Bartholomew. He smiled and flicked back his gown as he rose from his chair. ‘Your aunt — for this most serious act of disloyalty and disobedience — has instructed me to administer eight strokes of the cane.’
‘No…ooooo!’ Valerie felt herself dissolving. Terror filling her.
‘This I now intend to do.’ Slowly but surely Mr Bartholomew walked to where the cane hung.
Valerie began to sob like a little child. She knew there was no way out.


  1. Hi Flea
    I've followed you for a long time
    Thanks for all the hard work you've done on this excellent blog.
    This story and so many like it are just fantastic.

  2. What a lovely drawing at the end.

  3. Wow! That final image is absolutely stunning. It just deliciously sums it all up for me, what this, our abiding little disciplinarian interest and pastime, is all about.

    Nice photos also. Good authentic looking 6th form type schoolgirl with a splendid rump. That chap also is an excellent middle-aged, school-masterly type. The sort that would scare the living daylights out of most pretty young ladies sexually but who nevertheless have a knack of getting them into tight disciplinary corners with their knickers down. I have a fondness for a particular couple of pictures featuring this man, they were used to adorn a story called 'The Secret of Success' in Whispers no 2, an office based spanking story which I don't think has featured on this blog yet. Black and white pictures with lots of darkness and shadow and our man with a girl over his knee. In the first picture he's just pulled the girl's skirt up to reveal her tight white pantie clad bottom, in the second he's in the process of pulling those knickers down. Pretty much par for the course subject matter wise but there's just such a wonderful atmosphere of intimacy about these particular photographs. Hopefully many reading this will know the ones I mean.

    1. That one is in the pipeline. Watch this space later in the year.

    2. I look forward to it. Many thanks for a wonderful blog. You're doing a fantastic job.

  4. Ditto that Fleas as you must know I visit this site daily Above all more Poor julie please

  5. Valerie is such a cry-baby. All that sobbing. Extras for tears, I say. I always like punishments which exploit the fact the girls are dim. Insulting their lack of intelligence is always a nice addition to hitting them hard.

    1. Yes. Pretty young dumb-dumbs end up with sore bum-bums. Justice really. A good bare bottomed caning would be especially beneficial for those of the fairer sex with very little other than 'Love Island' rattling around their otherwise empty young heads at this time of year.

    2. Quite right. A girl ought to be quizzed on the evening paper before bedtime each evening, with a few general knowledge questions thrown in. And she ought to be made to copy out passages from encyclopedias rather than spending time watching silly television programmes - with any sloppiness or mistakes to be soundly punished.

    3. There was a lovely Uniform Girls cover where a gentleman is calmly reading the evening paper in his kitchen with a semi-naked girl bottom up legs sticking out through what looks like a serving hatch. She’s in a ready-to-cane position. I imagine the chap asking her simple questions about the news in the paper and her not having a clue. He makes a mental note of her dim replies and later folds the paper away and gives the clueless girl a bare-bottom cane stroke for each wrong answer.

      It is a delicious humiliation to watch a naked girl unable to answer questions. It accentuates their vulnerability and adds considerably to the pleasurable duty of teaching them a lesson.

  6. Yes. Alan Bell does a good line in belittling them. The Blushes film Detention Room has some great sequences where the schoolgirls are asked simple questions and have to remove their knickers as they get them wrong. The same brunette who Bell again calls ‘stupid’ in Reform School Discipline is told in that classic film, she will get the same number of strokes as her age. ‘How old are you, 17?’ ‘No, 18 sir’.
    ‘You’ve just talked yourself into an extra stroke’
    Bell replies. He can’t believe she was dim enough to do that.

    1. I also like Bell's way in some films, Sally's First Lesson and Jane and Her Tutor come to mind, of making his charges attempt to memorise some piece of spanking doggerel pertaining to their own disciplinary treatment and then recite it during bare bottomed punishment. Failure to get it right, of course, only leads to further punishment, the delicious irony being that the pain and the humiliation inflicted only make it more difficult for the young lovelies concerned to recollect the words through the impenetrable mists of their already befuddled young female brains. And so the whole very gratifying cycle goes on.

      Btw sorry to contradict but are you sure that's the same young lady in The Detention room as in Reform school Discipline? There is a similarity in looks but I think they're different girls?

    2. Sally's first lesson is an absolute classic, surely one of the best of its kind?
      The insistence of the tearful young lady having to learn and then regurgitate pointless, rote-learned doggerel is deliciously humiliating.

    3. Yes, deliciously humiliating although I wouldn't say entirely pointless seeing as the words concern what girls' bottoms and spankings are for. Personally speaking, I'd make young ladies memorise a number of such rhymes (the one used in Jane and the Tutor being another example) and let them know that they could be asked to recite any one or more of them accurately at any time.

    4. I quite agree about making girls memorize this sort of rhyme. They'll also be expected to recite on command for any visitor who needs to learn about the disciplinary regime the girl faces. This may include other girls - soon to be subjected to the same discipline, and soon to be made to memorize the same passages - as well as other gentlemen, who may be called to observe the girl's punishment or even help administer it. If the girl gets into trouble in public - caught trying trying to steal from a shop, say - she may even be made to recite it then and there to tell the shopkeeper or other concerned party how she will be dealt with once she is brought home.

  7. Yes, on closer ‘inspection’ you’re right. My mistake - they are different brunettes in Detention Room & Reform School Discipline. Though I think the one in Detention Room is also the lovely girl who is dealt with in Supplement 4. She has one of the most punishable bottoms in the entire Blushes canon.

    Must watch Sally’s First Lesson and Jane & Her Tutor - has Fleas kindly posted them on here anywhere do you know? Thanks.

  8. Yes, both videos are on this blog. I think Sally's First Lesson was the first video to appear here. Using the side menu, it can be found at Thursday, 7 December 2017. Jane and the Tutor meanwhile can be found at Wednesday, 5 September 2018. It is also reasonably easy to find these great films by using the blog's search facility. Enjoy! (And thank you once again, Fleas.)

    1. Thanks. Especially liked hearing her forced to link and say the words knickers and down in Jane and the Tutor. She is dim. It is hilarious when she constantly has to call herself lazy.

      In Penny’s First Lesson, she is not quite so stupid. She looks so ridiculed when she has her head down in the book trying to read out the correct spellings while her bare target is being dealt with. This one is a favourite from early Blushes magazines including Number Three. She has to lie on her back to be hit and her straight legs are pulled back over her head. This is a position designed to expose the pussy and the extra long whippy cane threatens to find a way at it as it stripes the bottom.

  9. Thanks. Let’s see if they challenge Reform School Discipline as my favourite: it’s the bit where the second girl gets the strap across the backs of her thighs that clinches it!

    Yes thanks again Fleas for the blog. I’ve always wanted a Blushes pictures and discussion forum and you created it.

    1. My personal favourites are First Week of Term (Wednesday, 20 February 2019 and Wednesday, 27 February 2019) and Caned After School (Wednesday, 8 May 2019) although I pretty much love all of the old Blushes and Roue productions.

  10. Yes they are very good at putting young bottoms* right with appropriate punishments and an authoritative tone.

    * and the backs of thighs in the case of Reform School Discipline ��