Lowewood Academy

Thursday 28th May, 6.22pm
To:r@lowewood-academy.co.uk
From l@lowewood-academy.co.uk
 
Hey Mate
 
How you doing? We haven’t spoken properly since the soiree. Congrats on getting a rugger trial. Still no idea what I’ll be doing come end of term – I’ll probably end up being bored rigid for three years at Uni if my bloody father has his way. God, that bloke is stuck in the dark ages, he evidently hasn’t heard of gap years!!! I’ve got my fingers crossed that he’ll put his hand in his pocket and let me spend some time travelling first… well, that’s unless Perkins’ fucking boring lessons don’t succeed in putting me off learning about the world for life.
 
So what’s with you? Amelia tells me you’ve told her to forget about your weekly master/slave arrangement and I hear on the grapevine that you’ve started sticking to the rules when punishing people. What’s happened? You turned over a new leaf or something & gone all honourable on us, lol? I like it
 
God I’m bored. Am lying on my bed trying to research stinking bloody tribes of the Amazon basin for Perkins. God it’s dull. Trouble is, you might have gone all coy about pulling a girl’s knickers down, but he hasn’t – dirty old fucker, so I spose I ought to crack on unless I want his tobacco stained hands slapping my bum – yuck!
 
Lx

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It felt strange not having Jess around. It’s funny how you don’t really appreciate how much other people actually do until they’re not there. Punishment duty, detention supervision, prefect rotas, providing an unofficial counselling service for the lower years – the House Captain’s duty list was endless. I was rather thankful that I’d been born with a dick, and so didn’t qualify to understudy Jessica’s Head Girl duties.

Punishment duty wasn’t as much fun as I’d expected. Up to now I’d managed to get by without having to trouble myself with the lower school, or more importantly, having to bother myself with the sixth form guys who weren’t prefects. I really couldn’t give a damn about most of Lowewood’s rules, and based my choice of when to spank someone firstly on their age and gender, and then on how much I fancied her.

But punishment duty didn’t work like that, for during said duty I was obliged to administer a house punishment to anyone who the teachers had deemed worthy of receiving one. So whether it was an erection inducing tawsing of a babe from the lower sixth, a few smacks across the skirt-covered bottom of a sulky fourth year, or six of the best over the underpants of a fellow member of the rugby squad, I had no choice whatsoever in the matter. It sucked.

To rub salt into the wound, the extra work took up time I’d usually spend trying to find reasons to get one of the aforementioned lower sixth babe into my room with her knickers down, and a mere two days into the new term I was desperate for Jess to return. I’d always suspected that I wasn’t born to organise things, and now I had the proof.

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I was fed up with rain. Rain. Bloody Rain. Every sodding day.
  
It had rained to such an extent that some of the lower lying parts of the school grounds had become flooded, which in turn meant that Mr Tough’s cross country runs now took the path directly past ‘my’ clearing – my little haven where King Nick O’Teen rules supreme. It meant I had to be on my guard.
  
Class runs were easy enough to avoid – the unmistakable sound of Mr Tough berating thirty or so panting, wheezing first years into greater efforts was a staple part of Lowewood life. More difficult to spot was Mr Tough himself. Such was his obsession with all things fitness related that he’d often go for a run whenever the timetable threw a free period his way, and his effortless, almost silent stride could cause serious grief to the unsuspecting smoker.
  
I kept watch on the path as my cigarette burned down. Amelia had been quite insistent that I meet her here. So far I’d smoked four fags and was thoroughly wet through.

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