We were awaken by the none too melodious, "Wake up girls !" from our dorm mistress. "T-shirts and shorts for the morning run !"
We stood by our beds to be inspected, and I was well aware that my shorts weren't covering the two cane strokes decorating my upper thighs. As yesterday I again felt well punished for my failure.
The other two dorms joined us in the entrance hall with their own dorm mistresses. I knew that jogging in the Bois de Boulogne at 7 am could be dangerous, but our dorm mistresses were armed with tonfa or nunchaku, and a pair of German shepherd doggies also joined us.
We alternated jogging and running. It was show time for early rising bums and junkies. Eighteen superb girls with short shorts and a few of them with reddened thighs were quite a sight. If a spectator with itchy hands came too close a doggie and a mistress with a nunchaku were quite persuasive.
When back at the academy it was communal showers. Judith and I blushed with embarrassment, and our roommates laughed, “We’ve seen it all !” Then there was our school uniforms as if fourteen years old. Wearing a short skirt and ankle socks with a sore bum did convince these eighteen years old to toe the line. A pair of soft cushion magically appeared as Judith and I sat down for breakfast. We thanked our roomies.
Next we started the day with a choreography class. Alicia hadn't reread the prep. The mistress pulled her across her knees by the ear as if a ten year old, exactly as matron did with me. She raised her skirt, pulled down her knickers and spanked her bare bottom and thighs in front of the whole class. Although Alicia must have felt as a spanked schoolgirl it wasn't a schoolgirl spanking, it was a spanking for a big girl with a short leather paddle which gave her bum a blazing crimson colour. That episode was concluded with, "In the corner with your knickers down to your knees and hold your skirt up !"
During the mid-morning break we changed for exercises à la barre. We wore leotards short wrap around dance skirts, and the mistress had a long hickory switch. If our pliés weren't as elegant as she expected she adjusted our positions with gentle painless taping. When she felt that we hadn't adjusted as required she flicked her switch with more vigour, and it was very stingy. If she felt that we weren't giving it our best we lost our dance skirts and she made it even stingier across our bums.
For lunch there was more soft cushions, but there was no resentment. All the quitters had left by now and we knew why we had remained. There was a few, "Oh la la! She roasted my ass !" A few teasers added, "That will teach you to reread your prep instead of having naughty dreams !" We joyfully chatted and it was my turn to be teased. "Yoh! Isabelle, you were a success this morning with that young tramp with the blue bandanna, the one who said that he would love to pluck your cherry !"
"Yuck! He smelled like a billy goat !"
"Hahahaha! No sense of adventure ! Imagine your fingers exploring his hairy chest..."
“Yuck! He probably has flies !”
After lunch it was a mandatory siesta as if we were in kindergarden. On our beds with PJ shorts and singlets. Although Tomiko had shushed us, Judith kept whispering and our dorm mistress caught her. "Since you were caned yesterday I will spare you my leather paddle... You will nonetheless receive a very French fessée !" She grabbed her PJ shorts, pulled them right off, and spanked her bottom and thighs till glowing. Judith had a bare bottom nap, and she didn't catch a cold !
Later we dressed with our tutu to work on our best performances. We would be video taped and all our steps were to be reviewed by our dance mistresses. I wore my beautiful powder blue leotard and tutu. I performed my favorite Swan Lake solo. I was happy with it, but Miss Classroom Spanker slowly ran the tape to point my mistakes. They were small mistakes, but they added up. "And there's no guts in your performance !" I was told to re-dance it.
I was nervous, I slipped and landed on my sore derriere. I was given a second chance and again slipped. Unfortunately I had fallen on exactly the same figure. She was furious ! She announced in French since French is the language of ballet, "C'est la fessée cul nu !" She pulled my leotard into my rear valley and spanked my buns till blazing.
I had to again re-dance it, and was warned that I would be spanked till not slipping on that figure. "No! Don't readjust your leotard, I want you to feel your red burning butt being on show !" The girls clapped their hands to reinforce the tempo. With my derriere on fire I was very careful, and didn't slip. Miss Maïa applauded.
To be continued...
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