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School sports

My mental storylines about girls being punished after school sports have always involve them being wet, bedraggled, muddy. Think rugby, cross-country running… Think supervised showers, followed by sound whackings in the changing rooms with the sports master’s plimsoll.

A long walk in sub-zero temperatures the other day provoked a different idea. Girls in short hockey skirts, freezing in the wind on a sub-zero day. Made to stand with hands on head in the dressing room at the end of the game. Caned on their ever-so-cold thighs. And then sent to strip and shower.

I’m wondering, though, about the effectivenss [...]

‘Werewolves’, revisited

Werewolves

Compare and contrast:

“Dances with Werewolves”. A spanking memoir by Niki Flynn – a long-standing favourite, still highly recommended – of which I was reminded when writing yesterday’s post about “50 Shades”. “Dances with Werewolves”. A $10m budget Hollywood horror movie about Confederate Prisoners of War (go figure!), due (according to IMDB) to be released next year.

Oh, how I hope at least a few people looking for the “book of the film” end up stumbling onto the pages listing Niki’s book instead!

[...]

The empty office

My hotel room in Manhattan for the first couple of nights of my stay, before EJ arrived in town, looked out across the street at a disused office block. When I woke at 5am, there were still lights on in the building, a few forlorn items of office furniture dotted at random around the large expanses of open space.

Just the sort of place, I realised, for the gentlemen to take a girl for their little, long-overdue discussion. To tie her over one of the desks; to give her a final chance to tell them what she knew; to cane [...]

The schoolgirl in the crowd

Weaving my way through a crowd of rush-hour commuters at Baker Street at around 6pm the other evening. In our midst, a solitary schoolgirl, carrying her satchel, looking downcast.

Surely school had finished hours before, I thought. So where had she been? Why, it was obvious…

Detention started after the other girls had left: an hour of copying the school rules in longhand with her fountain pen. And afterwards: that most lonely of walks to her housemaster’s office, to have to listen to how disappointed he was in her and to learn her fate.

Momentary relief that it was only [...]

The view from the canteen

The course I ran in the Netherlands on Tuesday took place in a recently-converted high school. I was somewhat distracted, as you can imagine.

Of most interest was the colleague’s office which boasted floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the former canteen. It was easy to imagine that this had been the headmaster’s office…

On the rare occasion that a girl was to be caned, she’d be called up to see him after lunch; those still eating would be able to look up and see her being lectured. The curtains would then be drawn; they’d wince knowing what was happening, and breath a [...]

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