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  • The 1956 Prospectus
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    A Private Boarding School for Girls
    Proprietors: The Church Trust for the Moral Reform of Wayward Girls
    Headmistress: Dame Agatha Trunchbull, M.A, D.S.A, D.I.S.T.
    Reformatory Lane, Hardacre End, North Yorkshire, England NE1 4CP
    Telegraphic Address: @hardacrehall.com


    From The Chairman of the Governors

    Welcome to the new Prospectus of Hardacre Hall School. Please browse carefully, and I am sure that you will find everything in here to satisfy you that Hardacre Hall is the proper institution to undertake the education of your precious daughter.

    It is with great sadness that we at the Church Trust have witnessed an appalling decline amongst our nation's youth since the Second World War in self-reliance, moral standards, and respect for authority.

    We ourselves know all too intimately of the losses and tribulations suffered by many families during the recent conflict. And we can understand that a certain weariness has crept into our national soul. Indeed, many of our friends have wondered if in these times of changing social mores, there is really any role for a body such as the Church Trust which is steeped in so much tradition.

    Our reply is a resounding YES! These times are a challenge to the committed, and if we are to keep our young people away from Sin and Lust, we must redouble our efforts to guide them on to the path of Moral Rectitude and keep them there. And so we have re-opened the famous Hardacre School with the mission of supplying a Proper Girls' Education for 100 to 200 pupils in a regime of Traditional English Discipline.

    And what a tradition we have! The Hardacre area has been a place of learning and discipline for nearly 1,000 years, ever since the Church strove to protect the virtues of our maidens from the marauding Vikings.

    There has been a Hardacre Hall school for over five hundred years, and there always will be.

    We are proud of our tradition, and we will build upon this in turning out the useful and obedient female citizens that England will need in the second half of the twentieth century.

    Lady Georgina Crusty-Gitt,
    Chairman of the Governors,
    The Church Trust for the Moral Reform of Wayward Girls,
    York Minster, England
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    From The Directress of Education

    Hardacre Hall is a school like no other in the world: it combines the best features of every girls' school in England to offer a regime of formal learning, character building, and suffering under strict discipline. We are a Reformatory School and we will save the souls of all our schoolgirls and drive out all traces of Sin and Lust, with a continual diet of severe corporal punishment accompanied by devout prayer.

    We have a vision for Education. In our vision, the pupils of Hardacre Hall will leave us, educated in Mind, Body, and Spirit, ready to be the wives and mothers of tomorrow. And if they are not fortunate enough to attain the calling of marriage and motherhood, we will educate them for careers in a suitable form of service.

    I shall myself take on the mantle of Headmistress of the new school to ensure that our vision is made real. Education will be the way we remember it and as it still ought to be, now and in the future....

    It was a warm day in the classroom, and the windows were open. The schoolgirl sat upright in the required posture on her hard wooden chair, her hands resting demurely on the top of the wooden desk. The heavy black leather lace-up shoes on her feet were firmly together, but under the desk her knees were apart, her thighs forced open by the large sanitary pad that Matron had prescribed that morning. She fidgeted on her seat, the crinkled material around the immensely strong leg elastics of her navy-blue woollen school knickers joining the elastic garters of her liberty bodice in digging harshly at her tender thighs, and the white cotton knicker linings providing no protection.

    Her nose began to itch from the chalk dust in the classroom air. She wished she could reach down below the desk for the little white cotton hankie in her knicker leg-pocket, but the Headmistress had told them all on their first day that it was a mortal sin to have your hands out of sight, and she knew that the Headmistress had a very special way of dealing with Sin in all its forms, both great and small.

    The weak sunlight filtered in through the high classroom window and fought its way through the motes of chalk dust. The teacher's voice droned on, the lesson interminable, and the schoolgirl's eyes drooped. She could hear the droning of the bees outside and the cawing of the crows nesting in the distant forest of birch trees. She tried to remember the world outside the school, a world beyond the forest, but the memory was so distant it seemed like a dream. She heard but did not register the rapping of the cane end on the blackboard as the teacher punctuated her lesson, she didn't hear the clacking of heel-taps on the wooden floor as the mistress strode between the desks, but she did feel an unbelievable fire as the teacher's ruler cracked across the back of her knuckles. Her eyes jerked open and began to fill with tears, and her hand went instinctively to her mouth for succour.

    And now, all too late, she heard very clearly, the sound of her name, followed by "Front of the class, NOW!!"

    Her stomach turned to water as she rose, and proceeded on unsteady legs towards the front, between rows of navy gymslipped girls, all expressionless, and all seeming to be sitting as straight and upright and as attentively as it was humanly possible to be, every pair of eyes fixed exactly on the center of the blackboard.

    Her own eyes flickered left and right as she walked, trying not to see the black leather tawse that hung menacingly alongside the blackboard, as if not seeing it would make it not exist.

    Then she was stepping up onto the classroom dais at the front, followed by the teacher who appeared to possess the world's entire quota of schoolmarmish righteous indignation. And that lady, with a grim expression, put her ruler on her desk, then walked over and lifted the tawse from its hook. She turned back to the girl and held up the tawse, so stiff and heavy that it hardly bent from where it passed the edge of her hand.

    The woman waited until the girl lifted her left hand, and held it out, palm upwards, the wrist supported by her other hand. The teacher indicated with a slight wave of the tawse that the hand was to be held higher, and the girl tremblingly complied.

    And then the teacher raised the tawse back over her shoulder, there was a pause, a blur of movement, and then the thing arrived with a meaty crack of the two tails across the palm of her hand. The girl shrieked and stooped, her hand going between her thighs, then under her arm, then in her mouth, clenching and unclenching, anywhere and anything to try and dim the unbelievable fire. The teacher clucked in annoyance and impatience, and reaching out, she shook the girl by the shoulder. Twice more the tawse did its grim work on the girl's left palm, and then, tears flowing, and after a short and almost unheard lecture about inattention being an insult to the mistress, the girl stumbled back to her desk, while the teacher made her entry in the Punishment Book, before returning the strap to its hook.

    And amid the pain and the fire and the tears and the promises to herself to stay awake forever, she registered other sounds. They came through the classroom window, from any one of the other classrooms. There was the distinct crack of rattan meeting tightly-stretched, bent-over, naked bottom flesh, followed by a muffled shriek, and the girl remembered that this was her second hand-tawsing from this particular mistress, and another occasion of transgression would mean staying after class to get what they called a "taste" of the cane, and that would make her late for her next class, which was also punishable....

    If, like us, you believe that education starts at the bottom, then share our vision and enrol your daughter now before it is too late. We shall not fail her. Nor you, nor England.

    Dame Agatha Trunchbull,
    Directress of Education,
    The Church Trust for the Moral Reform of Wayward Girls,
    York Minster, England
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    The Role Play Game


    Hardacre Hall is an interactive role-play fantasy game for ADULTS ONLY. If you are not at least 21 years of age, then you may NOT enter the game. Indeed, the Headmistress does not even want to know of your existence.

    Your character enters the game as a schoolgirl aged between 12 and 14, and will suffer severe punishments, humiliation, abuse, and degradation at the hands of the authority characters within the game.

    The game environment is a strict Reformatory Boarding School for Girls set in England in the year 1956. If you want to play, you should familiarise yourself with the 50's era.

    The game is consensual at the point of entry. Once you have entered the game, you surrender all rights. The game style is perverse.

    The game is based on boring lessons, repressive school rules, and detailed costumes and uniforms . Corporal punishment is savage but feasible. This is NOT a spanking and teasing game, this is an exploration of your deepest and darkest fears.

    If you understand all this, and you want to play, then read the rules.


    1. NO BRATTING (and no "cruising for a bruising"). You will be punished for things you can't help, like making mistakes in your schoolwork, or the least thing wrong with your uniform.

    2. NO PLEASURE. Your character does NOT enjoy being punished or violated. You are here to express pain and fear. Only the authority figures such as the Headmistress get any pleasure out of the acts performed, and even that is "secret", hidden under the guise of doing one's duty.
    (Of course, I hope that the real "you" will get pleasure out of the interactions - and you can tell us all about in OOC messages.)

    3. KEEP REALITY AND FANTASY SEPARATED. Sometimes this game can be so intense that players think the Headmistress *really* wants to do these things. You MUST keep a grip on reality - this is an adults-only consensual role-play game, and within that, the Headmistress has no shame and no limits. Anyone crossing the line between reality and fantasy will be immediately expelled.

    4. PLAY THE GAME. The Headmistress is only interested in enacting the fantasies within the game environment. She has no interest in being anyone's D/s Mistress, indeed she has no time or patience for the D/s lifestyle.

    5. NO DELVING. You are here to interact with the *characters* inside the game environment. It is *none* of your business who the other characters might be in real life or what they *really* think, or even what other games they might be playing. Anyone discovered delving into real-life identities, or trying to find out real email addresses, or checking on other players' IRC activities will be summarily expelled.

    6. NO TOPPING. You are here to do as you are told and to take what you are given. You do NOT lay down any rules or limits about your treatment. You can suggest ideas, and mention your likes and dislikes in a private email to the Headmistress.

    7. NO LARKING ABOUT. If you cannot play seriously, then don't play at all.

    8. DON'T BE CLEVER. Don't try to outsmart the Headmistress. You probably *are* smarter than the Headmistress. So what?

    9. NO ESCAPING. You will *always* get caught. If you try to write yourself one step ahead of the authorities, or you write yourself into an "escape" sequence, the Headmistress will NOT try to chase you around the houses. You will simply be written out of the game and gagged. Of course, you can write a reasonable amount of resistance and *trying* to escape, but just make sure you always fail.

    10. STAY FOCUSSED. When the Headmistress plays, she concentrates 100% on the game in hand. If you are playing on IRC and discovered to be playing "away" at the same time, or chatting on a back-channel (and you WILL be discovered), then you will be expelled. The Headmistress's time and energy is more valuable than yours, so do NOT mess her about.

    If you have read the Rules, and you agree to obey them, then you may enrol in this game.


    1. Get a picture in your own mind of your physical characteristics and your history. When you apply to enrol, you will be sent a Character Profile Questionnaire to complete.

    2. Invent your "parent" character. This character is used for dialogue at an "adult" or "official" level, and will usually be your mother. However, it may also be your step-mother, aunt, etc, or if you have been sent here by the courts, your probation officer (i.e. a parole officer for juvenile delinquents).

    3. If you are American, this is how you come to be in England: during World War Two your father was in England where he met your mother. You were born between 1942 and 1944. You all moved to America after the war. Your mother didn't settle, and recently came back to England, bringing you with her. This was a fairly common occurence.

    4. The School is run by: "The Church Trust for the Moral Reform of Wayward Girls", based at York Minster, England.

    Compose a letter from your "parent" figure to the Trust, applying to have your character enrolled at the school. Make sure you state your "parent's" name and location, your character's name and age, what your character has done that requires control and punishment, what you want the school to do to your character, and where your character is to end up after schooling.

    (Some suggestions: married off to an old man, caring for parents in their old age, sent to a convent, office girl, factory worker, domestic maid. Whatever you choose must be humiliating and based on service).

    5. Send the letter to: admin@hardacrehall.com

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