Saturday, 24 September 2011

Back to School - Bared Affair

This is a Bared Affair article about a most interesting reality show.


A new reality show goes behind the scenes of a typical 1950s British girls' school

Strolling through the grounds of Wellington's Academy for Girls, one is struck by how completely the makers of the show "School Days" have recreated a traditional British girls' school. It is a former academy that has been purchased by the network for the purposes of making the show, but it is almost like walking onto the set of a St Trinian's film. "School Days" is a "fly on the wall" reality show that will attempt to give the viewer an insight into the workings of a typical 1950s girls' academy.


A look at Wellington Academy for Girls from above.

The "girls" are adult women between the ages of 20-35 and come from all walks of life, all over the world and for varying reasons. The "actresses" are handsomely rewarded in the monetary sense for their participation in the show, although the makers like to pretentiously refer to it as a project. Some privacy is also respected as the bathrooms are free of cameras, and those in the bedrooms and change rooms are turned off when the girls are disrobing.

The red clay tennis courts were full of young ladies in the school's PE kit of white pleated skirts, sand-shoes, knee high socks and loose white tee shirts with the school emblem on the front. A group of girls were standing around the middle of one court watching a demonstration being given by the sports mistress. Although the sounds emanating from the centre of the group were familiar, they were not that of racquet stroking ball, more that of palm striking buttock.

A closer inspection showed that the sports mistress was not treating her students to an exhibition of how to play the perfect volley or ground stroke, but rather what happens to unruly young ladies who do not do as they are instructed. One of the "students," a petite blonde, was draped over the athletic brunette's knee. Her full back white panties were tangled around her ankles, pleated skirt folded well up her back and upturned bottom reddening rapidly to the same colour as the clay court as her teacher diligently attacked it with her hand.



Wellington's red clay tennis courts, free of students or reddening bottoms.

As classes were in session the halls were deserted and the click of high heels echoed on the journey to the headmistress's office. Passing by the infirmary, the domain of the academy's matron, a scolding voice was heard, quickly followed by the report of a slap and a girlish squeal. Glimpsed through an open door was the sight of a long slender pair of legs and an oval derriere, clasped firmly over matron's ample lap. A sturdy little paddle was making the slapping noise and flattening out the soft round buttocks only to have them fill out and colour prettily as the paddle lifted off and prepared to make its downward descent all over again.

The office of Headmistress Jeanne Renard was guarded by Miss Sandra Albertin, a very attractive and sensible looking chestnut haired young woman, who judging by her youthful appearance would be a good deal younger than many of the students. Headmistress Renard was busy, but would soon be available. Keen ears discerned the business that detained the headmistress. Although muffled by the walls and the closed door, there was the unmistakable sound of a school cane whistling through the air and impacting on the tight backside of a bent over miscreant. It was accompanied by an anguished howl and the tearful "F-five, th-thank you, Ma'am."

The head's plummy British voice replied, "Thank you, Miss Worthington. One more to come, now push your bottom up nice and high. We want this one to really count, young lady."

After the final stroke landed, the resultant wail from the unfortunate Miss Worthington made even the unflappable secretary jump. "Honestly," she muttered scornfully, "you'd think Mrs Renard was killing her. It's only six of the best, and any sixteen-year-old brat could take them better than that."

The door opened and a weeping brunette emerged. The pin on her blouse identified her as a third year student, but she was a good ten years older than any genuine member of that class, who was usually in the middle teens. Her hands were clasped firmly over the seat of her navy blue skirt. She seemed to want to leave the office as soon as was humanly possible, but the young secretary called her over to the desk sternly. "Sign the book, girl. You know that's the procedure."

Jacqueline Worthington, 27, scribbled her name into the large leather bound journal that was pushed towards her and made her exit hastily. The secretary examined the entry and shook her head. "Term has only just started and she's already seen Mrs Renard four times. She'll come to a bad end, that one," she remarked as the door opened again. The smiling face of Jeanne Renard, Headmistress of Wellington's Academy for Girls, beckoned.


From Girls Boarding School. Jacqueline Worthington bends over for the cane yet again.

 A Genuine Headmistress

Seated in front of the 55-year-old headmistress's large oak desk with a cup of tea provided by Miss Albertin, the presence of the recently used cane laying carelessly on the desk's expanse reminded one uncomfortably of the violence that had just taken place in the spacious office.


One of Headmistress Renard's canes.

"I am a genuine headmistress," Jeanne Renard began. "I work at a finishing school in Switzerland. They've unfortunately dispensed with corporal punishment, but I know a few of the young ladies there could do with a well striped backside. I'm on a year's sabbatical and I had not intended to work, but when I heard about this and the money that was on offer for six weeks of work, I could not refuse it."

One might also suspect that she was attracted to the shows devotion to old-fashioned disciplinary values. "In fact, Sandra [Albertin] heard about 'School Days' and its commitment to recreating all aspects of a traditional girls' academy," the headmistress said approvingly. Miss Albertin, 21, a recent graduate of Mrs Renard's finishing school, had recalled the woman's joking threats to cane her if the rules had allowed it. "Sandy took the initiative to put me in touch with the producers, and I'm glad she did. She'll go a long way, that girl, mark my words."

As other key staff and students were assembled for interviews, Mrs Renard chatted a little more about her own experience and the concept altogether. "It's a novel concept really. I was surprised when they told me that one of the criteria for the headmistress position was that I knew how to cane. As you can see I'm not a young lady and when I first began teaching caning was very much in vogue. The ability to give 'six of the best' wasn't put on your CV, but it was a question you were often asked: 'Can you cane a girl if it's necessary?' I made a dreadful job of the first girl I caned. She was actually smiling when she straightened up and went back to her seat. After school had let out for the day the headmistress gave me a first hand demonstration of how to do it properly. It took over three days before the marks faded and I could sit without wincing."

Five other women filed into the office and took seats where they were available. One was the pretty sports mistress who had been dishing out a spanking on the tennis court earlier, another was the matron who had also administered at least one dose of bare bottom discipline that day. The sports mistress and the matron were followed by three students. One was a tall redhead who wore the badge of head girl; there was a petite blonde and surprisingly the last person ushered into the office was the unfortunate Miss Jackie Worthington.

Seats were taken without incident, except when Miss Worthington lowered her weight onto her recently caned posterior. As soon as her bottom made contact with the chair's wooden seat she hissed in pain and immediately rose slightly before settling very carefully. "Oh God, Jackie!" the blonde giggled. "Have you been caned again?"

Miss Worthington nodded solemnly and Mrs Renard spoke sharply to the blonde girl. "Speak without being spoken to again, Miss Taylor, and you can join Miss Worthington in the sore bottom club. Am I making myself clear, young lady?"

"Yes, ma'am," the blonde replied politely, folding her hands in her lap and lowering her eyes demurely.


Staff and Student Interviews

The headmistress explained the reasons behind the presence of the reporter and interviews were commenced. The sports mistress, Alison Martin, was a thirty-something former top junior tennis player who had failed to make it on the international circuit and had been given the job due to a friendship with the shows producer. She found the show a pleasant distraction from her usual life, and afterwards would resume her position as tennis professional at an exclusive Miami based country club. She also said she hoped that the exposure may land her a spot in the entourage of one of the world's touring professionals.

Miss Taylor, the 24-year-old blonde whose first name was Marcella and had in fact been the girl over Ms Martin's knee earlier in the day, snorted at that hope when it was voiced and whispered to Jacqueline Worthington: "No hope unless Maria Sharapova needs her bum smacked."

There was a squeal as Ms Martin hauled Marcella to her feet by the ear and escorted her from the room scolding her, "I heard that, young lady! There is only one bum in here that needs smacking and it is not Maria Sharapova's!" The sounds of a furiously administered spanking soon filtered through from the reception area with Miss Albertin helpfully offering, "I have a slipper here, ma'am, if you'd prefer to use that."

With that unpleasantness removed the matron spoke up: Judy Fleming, 61. "I'm a registered nurse and until just last year I was an actual school matron. I wasn't getting any younger and decided to retire. Then when I heard about this show, well I knew I could do it, it was only six weeks and the money was very good to someone on a pension. Whilst the girls are a little older than the ones I'm used to tending to it's all the same really. All women of all ages need is firm discipline and common sense."

The girl over her knee earlier was mentioned. Mrs Fleming responded, "Yes, well the silly little madam didn't want me to take her temperature, did she?" This reporter admitted confusion as to why that would be a problem. The head girl came to the rescue. "We take temperatures rectally. Some of the girls find it a little intrusive."

Mrs Fleming rolled her grey eyes. "Honestly, what other way is there to reliably take a temperature? It's not like they have anything I haven't seen before. She was given the option of having the thermometer inserted between a pair of cool white cheeks or a set of hot, rosy ones. I can't help it if she chose the latter."


From Platinum Fetish. Matron Fleming takes temperatures the old fashioned way.

Attention was then turned to the flame haired head girl. She looked to be in her early thirties and was actually at the upper age limit of women accepted as students for the show. Her name, she explained in a rich upper class British accent, was Audrey Browning-Sharpe. "I always loved boarding school," she reminisced with a smile, "I was head girl there too. I think it gave me a good grounding for life and I was able to take over Daddy's business quite successfully when he retired." What Miss Browning-Sharpe omitted to mention was that her father owned one of Britain's oldest and most successful banks, not a corner store as she made it sound. "When I heard about this show I knew I had a chance to relive my school days."

"Audrey is also allowed to administer the slipper if she sees fit," Headmistress Renard advised, "just like any proper head girl at a proper girls' school."

Miss Browning-Sharpe smiled and nodded, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Jacqueline Worthington, who looked at her feet and squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. Although it was not mentioned in the interview, the Browning-Sharpe's also invested a considerable amount of money in the show, so Audrey's elevation to the position of head girl may not have been won entirely on merit.

Miss Worthington was prompted to speak by Mrs Renard. The brunette raised red rimmed eyes and said in a small voice, "I didn't want to come here, but my mother made me. I was happy modelling."

"Lingerie," Mrs Renard snorted. "What sort of career is that for a well bred young lady?"

Anger flared in Jacqueline's green eyes and she began, "I am not a well bred young lady!" But a look from both Mrs Renard and Miss Browning-Sharpe stopped the angry retort in its tracks. "My Mum went to a school like this and she thought it would do me good. All it's done so far is get me a bloody sore bum." She could not help finishing on that note, hands ruefully rubbing the seat of her navy skirt.

Audrey Browning-Sharpe's lips pursed and she said in ominous tones. "That little outburst has earned you a 'meeting' in my room at the conclusion of this interview, Jacqueline."


From Platinum Fetish. One of the prefects administers a bedtime spanking.

Miss Worthington sighed and commenced staring at the floor again.

The door opened and Marcella Taylor limped into the room, rubbing her bottom and her face showing evidence of recent tears. "Muhmizz Martin," she stammered, "apologises... she had - had to leave."

"Thank you, Miss Taylor. I trust that Ms Martin instructed you on the dangers of interrupting and making silly and snide comments," Jeanne Renard addressed her student.

"Yes, ma'am," the petite blonde replied contritely.

"Maybe a spoonful of castor oil after will reinforce that lesson," Matron Fleming murmured. "Come with me afterwards and we'll rectify that, missy."

"Yes, Matron," Marcella Taylor sighed, wrinkling her pert nose in distaste.

"Now Miss Taylor, why don't you tell our guest a little about yourself?" Mrs Renard invited.

Seating herself gingerly Marcella wondered out aloud: "What's to tell? I was an army brat, so this lifestyle is kind of par for the course for me. I'm too little to compete with all those big butch types in the army so I didn't really have anything to do. I was on the dole. Then I heard about this, the money was good and I get my head on telly. OK, the smacked bums are a pain in the butt, literally, but I think I can maybe spin this out after the show ends."

Jeanne Renard shook her head and muttered "incorrigible" under her breath, but complimented the bubbly girl all the same. "Thank you for that succinct and earthy explanation. I'm sure it can be edited to make it readable."


From CF Shots. Two misbehaving students get the hairbrush in an unused classroom.

Tea was finished and after a guided tour of the grounds the interviews were concluded. Although the network did provide a preview tape of the first episode, which will introduce the students and the staff, this reporter came away with a wonderful understanding of the show itself and can guarantee our readers that it will be a "must view" show later this year.


Originally published in Bared Affair, Issue 3.04

6 comments:

  1. I hope that the network will eventually air the show in the US on some cable channel. Terrific post, thank you.
    joey

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  2. I do so love your blog, Aunty!

    Love,

    Carla

    :)

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  3. @ Joey, that particular show would be a definite keeper when they bring out the special DVD set with the out takes.

    @ Carla, and I adore yours too, darling. Thank you for the comment.

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  4. Agree with all above, want this to come to US tv asap!! Love your blog, the best!!

    Hugs
    ron

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  5. Unfortunately Ron, I don't think the show made the cut for that season. Thank you very much for your kind words about the blog.

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  6. No doubt Aunty but one can hope!!!

    Be well
    Ron

    ReplyDelete