Lowewood Academy

My jaw is aching, I’m surrounded by an aura of bleach and I’m slowly losing the will to live…ah yes, I must be home.

God, I miss school (yes really - that’s how bad it is). I’d even welcome another blistering from Richard bastard Farthingdale if it meant escaping from this sterile hellhole. Actually, on second thoughts, maybe not. I’d never thought that four minutes was a particularly long time until I’d spent that exact amount of time getting every inch of my bottom slapped hard until it burned and stung.

In that situation, four minutes can really drag.

It’s so typical that I go the whole year without once having the misfortune to set foot in his study and then on the last fucking day, he runs into my suitcase and blames me. For some reasons, lots of the fifth form girls, like Pippa Beaumont, really wanted to get called into his study! Errrr….why?

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Readers of Lowewood Academy!

We are delighted to introduce Faye Dennington-Glass as a new contributor to Lowewood Academy. I’m sure you will all enjoy reading her unique perspective on life at Lowewood!

Faye’s profile can be found here.

As you know, we have said goodbye to our upper sixth – but you can find the profiles of some of your old favorites on our new ‘Former Pupils’ page.

I couldn’t begin to describe to mixture of emotions that were running through my body as I started the last couple of hours of my time at Lowewood. People were already leaving, some of whom I would never see again. Although term doesn’t officially finish until 4pm, the school is flexible enough to allow pupils to leave at various times throughout the afternoon. I’d already said my goodbyes to more lower school kids than I could count, and even a few of the sixth formers had already departed.

I felt sad.

My study and bedroom didn’t look or feel like mine anymore. The shelves were bare, other than for the Bible, dictionary and book of School Rules that had been there when I arrived last September. My bedroom was now an impersonal space where my cases stood in readiness for my departure. The only thing left was the half used bar of soap on the basin that I had decided would be too much hassle to take with me. I’m not sure whether it was simply my imagination, but my footsteps seemed to echo as I moved around. It was almost ghostly.

I’d had some good times in here. Both Amelia and Gina had been spanked and shagged in just about every imaginable position, and I’d never forget the view of Laura Featherstone’s breasts as she bent over the sofa. I tried to recall exactly how many girls I’d dealt with during my time as Head Boy, but couldn’t remember. I wish I’d kept notes. I took it for granted, and now the time had passed. Although I’d only spent two years at Lowewood, it really felt like home.

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