Lowewood Academy

I’m one of the few Lowewood pupils who is glad half term is over. How Jessica Davies can tolerate being alone in the buildings for such long periods is beyond me, for even with the distraction of set building and the ability to travel into town and visit The King of Prussia whenever I liked, it was still dull. I’d hoped to talk Jessica into helping with the set, for although she can be a real handful at times she’s thrown herself wholeheartedly into The Boyfriend in a manner that I thought was beyond her. With it being a school holiday, I knew I didn’t have the authority to insist on her assistance, but I hoped the temptation of a few drinks at the pub one evening would be sufficient to convince her. As it happened, I saw neither hide nor hair of her for the whole of the week, and so set building was a lonely job. I missed the chatter of my fellow pupils, I missed rugby practice on Wednesday, I missed laughing at Mr Perkins’ bad breath; but most of all, missed the thought that, should I desire it, I could have a girl’s bare bottom lying across my lap quivering in anticipation of my palm crisply landing upon it.

I’m not entirely sure when this fascination with administering punishments started. Since September, the task has slowly evolved from being a mere (if not uninteresting) duty, to something that I relish and find sexually arousing. Perhaps it has something to do with Gina, I don’t know. By the time Thursday came along I was bored stiff with painting the Café Pataplon, to the extent that my mind began to wander and I began to think about the various bottoms that had been bared for me, and of three naked young ladies at Prefect’s Council. Before long, I found that I was no longer simply bored stiff, but just simply ‘stiff’. In my defence, it had been over a week since I’d last done anything sexual, and given that endless research has discovered that men think about sex every five minutes or so, a week is a bloody long time.

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Following my delicious baptism of fire from Christian, it seemed appropriate that fire should feature in the first part of my grand plot to obtain my revenge for the prefect’s council. The plans, which were certainly more elaborate than Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, were finalised. Whilst my first reaction had been to really set fire to one or even all of them, I realised that Mr S would frown upon arson, despite it being the speciality of several former Lowewood pupils. So I decided to be subtle.

I realised early on that my rare knowledge of the nooks and crannies of Lowewood, not to mention the fact that (from my holidays at school) I know all the invisible people at Lowewood – domestic staff, the cooks, groundsmen etc was going to be exceptionally useful if I was to escape unscathed, not to mention allowing me to be far more creative with my use of resources. I discussed the general idea with Beth and Sylvie, late at night in our room. Beth and I are now, thankfully, friends again, our bond, forged in naughtiness, too strong to be broken. I was determined however, that I would carry out my plans without filling them in completely – that way, I mused, they would be far more likely to be able to protest their innocence convincingly if questioned. However, they each came up with a creative way of prolonging the humiliation if my plans succeeded. The big If!

So here we were, Monday night and I felt nervous. If all went well, victim number one, our Games Captain, Jason Oak, purveyor of vicious punishments despite being involved himself in the sins, would shortly be nursing a very bruised ego. And when your ego is as large as our man in the crease, the bruise would hopefully last for as long as the ones on the bottoms of Beth, Sylvie and me.

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Last time I was here, Somerton Hall was my prison.  This time it’s been my sanctuary!

What a contrast to the awful Christmas holidays, just a few short weeks ago.  Then I was in disgrace and paid a miserable price, with no freedom, almost constant supervision and capped by a serious spanking from Thomas, daddy’s faithful butler, to encourage better behaviour from me this term.  Thomas must be feeling pretty pleased right now I guess: to all appearances he seems to have had the desired effect upon me.  For this time I’ve returned home for half term with a virtually unblemished official record.  The same, of course, cannot be said for the current state of my backside…

I certainly seem to have got myself into plenty of trouble if you judge these things by the number of days on which it’s uncomfortable to sit.  The thing is, they’ve pretty much all been either unrecorded punishments or completely unofficial.  For example, I can really see Madame Couchette taking the trouble to add my spanking from her to the Lowewood punishment book for “allowing herself to be observed indulging in self-gratification and affording me an opportunity to do the same at her expense”  - or that’s how I would’ve described it, the dirty old hag… Of course I’ve also had my share of whackings in both classroom and house, from teachers and prefects alike, but nothing that warranted recording.  Even flunking my English test was a safe bet in this respect, since the teacher concerned sets his own rules for who gets punished and they only go in the book if it’s a proper exam – facts I was well aware of when I decided to risk it. 

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