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Thursday, 29 August 2019

Monitors Duty

From Uniform Girls 20
The long summer day, humid and sticky, has at last begun to lose its heat as twilight settles over the grounds and uneven rooflines of The Grange. At the foot of the main staircase, in what is known as the ‘front building’, a clock, high up on the wall opposite the stairs, stands at twenty-seven minutes past nine. From the direction of the darkening east wing, comes the thin sound of sporadic whistling, tuneless for the most part, and drawing slowly nearer; and now, from the first floor, the patter of hurrying feet echoes softly around the lofty entrance hall.
A girl appears suddenly at the top of the stairs and comes skittering rapidly down them, her blonde hair bouncing, and she scampers across the black and white marble tiles which pave the hall, to a cupboard which is set back into an alcove. She stops in a fluster before the cupboard, her hands at the waistband of her skirt, unclipping and unzipping, with time clearly pressing; she turns her head, her hands stilled, as the whistling begins again, now much nearer. Her eyes, blue in a pale, pretty face, do not leave the gloomy corridor that leads to the east wing, but her fingers find her skirt’s zip again, then she stoops and the skirt slips down her legs, together with her knickers.
She straightens up with the two garments in her hand; she yanks open the cupboard door and bundles them inside. She stands on tip-toe, trying to see onto the high top shelf, her bare legs firm and muscle-taut, one black-shoed foot lifting as she strains upward, her blouse pulling up, tight across her breasts, her navel just exposed.
The whistling again, very close, and then the scuff of shoes against the marble tiles as Briggs catches sight of the half-naked girl and stops in his tracks.
The girl comes down off her toes, pulling a small white bundle from the shelf, and she turns, wide-eyed, towards the portly, heavy-jowelled figure standing no more than five yards from her.
‘Well, well —' the words ring gently in the hallway; the girl’s hands drift automatically across to hide the plump swell of her pubes behind the white bundle; one knee turns in and she presses her thighs close together; she bites her lower lip in anguish at being discovered so.
‘What’s this then, eh? Shouldn’t you be at the side door by now, young lady?’ Briggs takes a pace towards her, then another, a grin spreading across his unshaven face, his whole posture full of menace. The girl gulps quietly.
‘Yes — I — I’m a bit late, actually —’ Her hands twist at the bundle and her knee slides a fraction further across its neighbour.
‘I should think you was, my girl —’ Briggs stares lewdly at her nakedness, up, down, down again. He rubs the back of his hand across his chin with a faint rasp of stubble. His eyes brighten. ‘Well —’ he says, at length, ‘— you better get on with it, ‘adn’t you.’
Cheeks pinkening, the girl stands on tip-toe again, her eyes leaving Briggs for no longer than absolutely necessary as her hand scrabbles about on the top shelf. At last she gives up her search and turns warily towards the watcher, her little bundle carefully interposed between his gaze and what he would like to catch a glimpse of. Briggs stares at her with an enquiring expression on his round face, until she seems to feel obliged to offer an explanation.
‘They — don’t seem to be there,’ she says, her voice small, her pink cheeks clearly to be seen now, even in the gathering gloom.
‘What ain’t there?’ says Briggs, still staring.
‘The — the — bottoms’ Neither knickers nor shorts, really. ‘Bottoms’. Briggs steps forward, grinning again. Taller, he can just reach what the girl has been looking for, right at the back of the shelf. He contrives to keep it hidden behind his back as he shakes his head.
‘Nope — don’t seem to be here.’ He shrugs, still grinning. ‘You’ll just ‘ave to do as you are, won’t you.’ He glances up at the clock. ‘And you’d better be quick about it.’ The girl, too, looks at the clock; nine thirty; already she is fifteen minutes late! She looks at Briggs, then again at the clock. The hands holding the white bundle protectively in front of her move reluctantly. She turns sideways and puts the bundle quickly on to a shelf in the cupboard, then, with an embarrassed glance at the amused Briggs, she begins to unbutton her blouse.
The blouse joins her skirt and knickers in the cupboard. Hot-cheeked, she elects to turn away from the staring eyes, bare bottom being marginally less humiliating to leave open to Briggs’ lascivious gaze than tits and pubic hair. The white bundle is snatched up and shaken out, all in one panic-stricken movement, then she tugs it over her head, struggling into it, breasts bobbing and swinging. She wriggles it down over her breasts as far as it will go — which is not very far. Indeed, it is cut so high that the soft under-fullness of each breast can still be seen when she turns to close the cupboard door, avoiding Briggs’ piercing glance, red-faced and trembly-lipped. She hides her pubes again as she turns to Briggs; she has to ask, though she hates asking anything of him.
‘You — you won’t tell, will you? Please — if he doesn’t already know, you won’t say I was late — will you?’ Briggs grins again.
‘I might — or I might not. We’ll ‘ave to see.’ He stares fixedly at the single word printed across the girl’s chest, ‘Monitor’, in capital letters, and in particular at the little holes rough-cut in the centres of the ‘O’s’. ‘And ain’t you forgotten something, by the way?’
The girl bites her lip again, embarrassment heightening the blush in her cheeks. With fumbling fingers she wangles one pert, traitorously-erecting nipple into each of the holes; they stick out, seemingly proud to have been included in the conversation, and Briggs’ grin widens.
‘Ere —’ He produces the ‘bottoms’ from behind his back. ‘P’raps you’d better ‘ave these after all.’ He laughs at the frustrated look in her eyes; she snatches the bottoms, forgetting for a moment to hide behind her hands, and she wangles one foot then the other into them, yanking them up then turning to flee down the corridor of the west wing, her shoes ‘shushing’ against the tiles and the bottoms’ tapes clutched in her hand.
Push bar to open. The door clatters aside; outside she shoves it almost shut and stands on the top step of four; the air, fresher now, is cool on her body as she looks frantically into the gloom in case he should have come along already, and have noticed that she was not at her post on time. She can see nothing of him; she pulls the waist tapes tight and ties them in a neat bow just under her belly-button, looking away along the path in the direction from which he will probably come, then she reaches behind her and passes a third tape forward between her legs, then up over the plump mound at the apex of her thighs, up under the waist tape and then back down again. Back between her legs, then up to loop over the waist tape. A sound along the path! The girl freezes, her face catching the light from the simple naked lamp above her head as she listens, and looks. But it seems to be nothing.
The ‘bottoms’ are already tight around her bum, the worn material stretched taut across her bottom-cheeks; she pulls up on the tape and it slips snugly between her firm, round buttocks, pulling the ‘bottoms’ even more closely across the shape of her bum. At the front, the up-and-down tape has cinched in either side of her plump pubic swell. She ties the tape off around the waist-tape at the back and then stands up straight, hands by her sides, her eyes seeking nervously along the path.
She waits. Then, unlikely after so hot and sunny a day, a faint drizzle of rain begins, dampening the bare skin of her arms and legs and spangling her hair, the reflection of the overhead lamp catching the rain-drops and making them sparkle. It is almost dark now.
Still she waits. She slips a finger under one of the tapes and eases it a fraction to one side, from where it has trespassed into the cleft of her pubes. Either side of where the ‘bottoms’ dive down and tuck in between her thighs at her pubes, the crease-line of the tops of her legs is just visible, the ‘legs’ having been cut so as to emphasise the brevity of fit. The material sits fairly close to her hips, yet a two-inch slit at the side of either leg gives the ‘bottoms’ a slight suggestion of looseness that delineates the form beneath even more sharply than would have been the case had they been tight against the girl’s skin. Behind, the cheeky under-curves of her buttocks are half-naked where the ‘bottoms’ cut up diagonally across her bum-cheeks either side of the tight-tape-emphasised bum-crease.
Still she waits. Her nipples stiffen to prominent rigidity as the night air wafts over them, their pushy impudence adding misplaced punctuation to the lettering which swells gently across the upper roundnesses of each of her breasts and swoops into the dip between.
She stares out into the darkness, into the thin drizzle, and she begins to cry, quietly, snottily, miserably. Her head droops forward — she sees her pink, defiantly erect nipples poking lewdly through the holes; she feels the tapes up between her bottom-cheeks, dividing, plumping her bum out, presenting it as an object of lasciviousness, as a full, round handful on either side, as a target. A target for a swishy, squeal-making cane or a tear-starting strap. And in front, white tape-outlined, swelling softly, ripely, that other place to which attention will inevitably be drawn by the very nature of her dress. Attention drawn, and intention directed; that, though, for later — after ‘Monitoring Duty’ has been done, and her bottom has been caned and she has been sent to stand beside her bed in her little room on the top floor until after lights out.
She cries because she is nineteen and in her first year at University, and she shouldn’t be here at all, save for force of implacable circumstances. She weeps because her pert, out-thrust bottom has only twice in her life felt, and flinched under, the smarting stimulus of a smooth-soled gym slipper, and has only once been made to squirm, and then with frantic energy, in response to the more chastening lick of a purpose-designed strap, an inch and a half wide and perfectly suited to its task, that of leaving plump, late-teenage bottoms rosily-striped and hot and tender and trembly-stinging, as a lesson in humility to their youthful owners. Two slipperings, then, and one admittedly sound strapping; hardly sufficient, some might have thought, fully to have exploited the pleasure-potential to those appreciative of such things, of a bottom so delightfully saucy and full-cheeked and very provocatively-proportioned; not enough, perhaps, except that Rachel’s two slipperings and one strapping have been recent experiences — indeed, have occurred only since she has been here, and she has been here only two days.
And two days ago, Rachel had been a virtual innocent in the yielding up of that other potential for pleasure-giving that attractive girls of her age inevitably possess: but that was two days ago. In two days, she, and the other girls here, have learned much.
Rachel stands under the lamp in the rain and thinks of all that has happened, to her and to others, in two days; she thinks, and she weeps some more.
Mr Briggs will return in In Short Order.


  1. The best cover photograph in magazine history. Better than Vogue or Elle.

    1. This comment has been removed by the author.

    2. A strong claim!

      Against which I might set any of Janus 53, 58, 68,72,76,123, 153, 158,161

  2. Bob here.
    Definitely better than any cover that Vogue or Elle ever produced...and with
    far better content,too.

  3. Interesting choice Michael. Roue number 6 for me

  4. Bob here.
    You make a good point,Milady
    de Larmes.Janus had some of the best
    cover shots in the entire history of
    cp magazines.Erotic and classy,as indeed were the.contents,too.

  5. I'd give the title of best cover to Whispers 1 - even better than Janus 39 with Wendy East.

    1. Thanks for giving us your choice Fleas.

      From the House Of Blushes covers I would choose Supplement 8 where the girl is standing with no knickers in an airless coal cellar, her skin marked with coal dust, holding the shovel she’s using to heave coal into the boiler. In the cover shot the shovel covers her pussy. Then there’s Blushes 14 which is very naughty as it just shows a pair of pink knickers tangled round a girl’s ankles and her bare leg as the rest of her out of shot is sprawled in a field (it looks like she’s been ‘fully’ dealt with).
      But Roue 6 has the most punishable bare bottom in full view, framed by pulled down schoolgirl knickers and white blouse above. She is being held in place by a hand on her hip and his other hand raised to start her punishment. The bottom is asking for the cane next and is very sexually attractive for those who like their sexual element in punishment

    2. Inspector Rudkin30 August 2019 at 00:45

      All good choices Marco, and I agree on 14, knickers hanging forlornly from ankles are always evocative. For me Blushes 8 and 9, both with a pair of attractive young lady's waiting nervously in an institutional setting, but the winner would be Blushes 25, a very attractive girl with a plump caneable posterior in a domestic setting, perfect.

    3. Blushes 25 is very strong I agree Inspector - lovely flimsy white knickers just asking to be removed (she is not though one of my top twenty girls). I would also have to mention Blushes31 which was my first Blushes (I’ve since seen them all) - its cover completely stood out on the top shelf with its trite girlies: here was a cover in which a disciplinarian sat in the background while a scantily clad girl looked down contrite & nervous. I have copies of that magazine ever since

    4. Inspector Rudkin30 August 2019 at 02:38

      Also UG9 - although she would benefit from something else between those pretty lips. And UG12, same girl as Blushes25 (one of my top 10, and fortunately lots of appearances), sitting apprehensively bare bottomed waiting for an embarrassing session of swimming training , accompanied by the application of a 3' cane naturally!

    5. Yes UG12 is in a Blushes schoolroom where other schoolgirls are also dealt with.

      It’s the same black and white floor upon which a square and crosses positioned the delightful brunette in the Reform School Discipline video. Fortunately she moved out of her square in an effort to avoid some heavy spanking blows; and was strapped to tears on the backs of her thighs for the misdemeanour.

    6. Inspector Rudkin30 August 2019 at 02:57

      Sorry I meant UG13, filing error. I do like UG12 also which contained a very good story about a young lady called Babs who has a very hard time being trained, quite right to...

  6. Right that's decided it then. Shall we have a top 10 selected by yourself Fleas and then we can take a vote, with comments attached? I think that's fair.

    1. Good idea as ever Michael. We all respect Fleas opinions very highly. (You would have to revisit Roue 6 among your research!)

    2. Good plan. I'll need to work out how to include a poll on the blog. In the meantime keep the nominations coming and once I figure out the knowhow I'll post a shortlist (with pictures) with a link to a poll for readers to vote for their favourites.

      That's the theory anyway...

    3. Excellent Fleas63. Thanks. Will choose more from the whole canon - Blushes, Janus et al

    4. Janus 34, Fessee 6, Roue 6, Blushes 6, 14, 31 & 41, Uniform 6 & 43, Dear Blushes 53 are my top ten nominations. Some explanations in a separate post below.

    5. Sorry - went ahead and posted my shortlist before I saw your post. Hopefully enough of an overlap to guide your vote.

    6. Hi Fleas63 - no problem. Thanks again. Roue 6 is in your selection & is my number one as it shows a lovely bare bottom about to be dealt with. Excellent job Fleas63

  7. Bob here.
    I am not familiar with the cover image
    of Whispers no.1. Can anyone give me a rough idea about that cover and it's basic composition ?

  8. Inspector Rudkin30 August 2019 at 03:51

    Hi Bob,
    If you click the Janus link on this page and go into the Digital shop you'll find a full library of covers. Hope this helps...

  9. And the prize will be a weekend with Jane!

    1. I’d choose a weekend with Maureen whose on the cover of Supplement 5

    2. Inspector Rudkin30 August 2019 at 04:45

      A weekend with Jane sounds good to me, now where did I put the saddle for that exercise bike...given the choice of course I would take a ' Reorientation Weekend' with Nicola and Sophie.

    3. Inspector Rudkin30 August 2019 at 05:12

      That all aside this is a great little tale. What, one wonders, are the implacable circumstances that landed Rachel here?

  10. Well of course I could. Fleas63 is sure to feature it in the longlist/shortlist for favourite cover - so I defer to the Blogmaster

  11. Bob here.
    A weekend with Wendy East for me...with
    an optional extra of Antonia Du Bois
    as well...I wish!


  12. So Roue 6, Supp 8, Blushes 14 & 31 as above. Uniform 6 (I love the mess in her room with knickers strewn on the floor & her pulling her vest down over her bare pussy only to tighten its hold on her bare breasts), Uniform 29 (those nice white knickers & the full Salvation Army Uniform, soon to be removed; I like his let me get at you look on the cover too), Dear Blushes 53 (the still from Detention Room with the 2 girls cajoled into sitting at their school desks bare bottoms on full show & their gymslips pinned up out of the way for their canings; the brunette so humiliated we can see her trying to hide behind her hand on the cover; Blushes 41 with the single picture of the blonde’s head face down on the bed (we just know her bare bottom is up ready for the cane); I remember buying this one at the time & placing it towards the young female assistant at the newsagents; I’ll bet she wished she could look inside it. That’s 8 covers. I’ll choose 2 more to make it a round 10

  13. I am very much in favour of the tight braces and shorts ensemble as featured here. That was a quite splendid little innovation in girls training attire from the Blushes stable. Not only does it show the pussy (and, of course, bottom) area off to quite sensational visual effect, there is also the matter of how it physically feels to the wearer. Very good idea to heighten girls' self consciousness and feeling of vulnerability down there especially when they're in the presence of a number of gentlemen disciplinarians and their bits and bobs are sensitised by recently applied treatments.

  14. Bob here.
    Whilst traditional school uniform is my
    favourite outfit for a young lady to wear,I must say that the braces and shorts combo us very appealing as well.
    The beret works well with this outfit,I think.Certainly,one can imagine a girl
    not enjoying wearing this outfit...not
    that she is meant to anyway,of course.

    1. Yes, you've hit on another aspect that makes this combo attractive. Girls like to dress sexily to provoke and tease and manipulate men. But this is being made to dress sexily on male terms, in humiliatory fashion, in ways that girls don't like but which are very pleasing to the eyes of their elderly disciplinarians and trainers.

  15. Bob here.
    Exactly so,Anonymous.A girl must learn
    quickly that once she is under male supervision every aspect of her dress,deportment,behaviour etc,is geared towards pleasing the gentleman (or gentlemen) she is being trained and disciplined by.She does not get to decide anything for herself,unless she
    is given specific choices by her master
    or mistress.She will not enjoy being made to perform or dress to the standards we demand of her.Doubtless,she will attempt to rebel
    against whatever restrictions or instructions are spelled out to her.
    Perhaps that is only to be expected.
    Women love to tease and frustrate men as much as possible,when they can.
    How crestfallen the girls of our dreams will be once under our supervision.
    And the greater their discomfort or embarrassment, the greater our pleasure.

  16. Inspector Rudkin31 August 2019 at 01:08

    Embarrassment which is increased by the broadcasting of restrictions on dress and details of punishments. For example take a girl in fine seamed stockings to a pub garden, explain loudly that any crookedness in her seams or ladders in her stockings result in a swift dozen with a rattan cane. Now take a ball and throw it into a nettle and bramble patch and say to the girl 'fetch'. I'll leave the rest to our readers imagination..

    1. Oh but please...s-sir... that's not fair...

      Who said anything about fairness girl? Now FETCH! Unless you want a dozen right here and now on top of any others you earn?

  17. Inspector Rudkin31 August 2019 at 02:25

    She stands forlorn in front of the jeering, laughing drinkers, ball in mouth, stockings laddered and crooked, tears sliding down her face. 'Cane her, cane her..'starts a rumble of voices in unison.

    1. I can't take you anywhere girl, can I? Not without you making a spectacle of yourself?

      Look at the state of you. I don't know why we bother getting you nice clothes. And your's a complete mess. You're a scruffy, untidy, unruly trollop!

      In future you'll just have to be back in uniform when we go out.

      Now come HERE girl...let's have you out of that dress - you've ruined it anyway. Come on hurry up knickers down girl...and bend over the table...arse up...push it up girl...legs apart... wider girl...we want your arse spread nice and wide...oh don't worry about people seeing your pussy...trollops like you should be used to showing off your goodies I think they want me to cane you.

      Best give the people what they want!