I had decided last night. I was going to visit the Ecole Ecarlate. I of course, knew that écarlate means scarlet. What a strange name for a school. I also wondered about that promise of guarantied results. I further mused, What about the méthode traditionnelle, and the school uniform? The little wheels between my ears teased. It adds up, you will be spanked till you are fluent!
I shrugged. I am not afraid of a spanking. Daddy spanked me till I got my O and A Levels, and continued till I graduated from my banking school.
With a second cup of coffee, I searched on my cellphone for that Birchwood Manor at Switchingham Village. Once I had found it I tried 3D, but I got a "Private Property" message. TomTom said that it wouldn't be more than a twenty minutes bike ride.
After a long shower and having dried my hair, I pulled up my new white cotton knickers. I also selected a very conservative matching bra. The Victoriana white blouse and the shortish tartan pleated skirt followed with the black sweater. Next were the knee-high socks and I selected a pair of black brogues. In my tall mirror, I smiled for having traveled back in time. 'Back to school naughty girl!' To be safe with the cloudy weather, I added a lightweight hooded raincoat.
It was a leisurely ride, and before the village, I took the long private alley leading to Birchwood Manor. I discovered a lovely old stone house with a superb English garden.
"Good morning Sir, it is about the French lessons."
"Indeed! Compliments for the uniform. I am Monsieur Maurice.”
He led me into a small office with two comfy chairs in front of an old wooden desk. I immediately noticed the magazine on his desk. Its name of Janus meant nothing for me, but the picture on the cover confirmed what I had imagined about the méthode traditionelle.
"We shall begin with a test. We have to assess your level to decide if you have the basics for turning you into a fluent French speaker." He showed me an antic school desk with an attached seat.
The test took one hour, it was written and oral. With that cover of Janus in mind, I did my best, but he grimaced for my accent. While he corrected the written part, I prayed that he wouldn't reject me.
I blushed, "I am sorry Sir. Does it mean that I don't have the minimum requirement?"
"Hahaha! Why is it that important to be French fluent?"
"Its about a promotion and a great position with our agency in Calais."
"It will take 3 months, alternating 3 weeks with us including weekends, and one week back at your bank."
"Phew! Thank you Sir!" I beamed. I was elated.
"How many years of French have you had?"
"Seven years, Sir."
"Such a poor grade after seven years of French. You should be ashamed of yourself."
I lost my smile.
"It is evidence that you were lazy. You deserve to be punished."
"Huh!"
"As a lazy girl you will be severely spanked on your bare bottom."
"Oh!"
I couldn't say that I was surprised when he stood and pulled me over his knees. It was nonetheless quite embarrassing to be pulled by the ear as a ten-year-old.
He spanked my bottom and thighs. I tried to keep my legs tightly closed. He had callous hands, probably from maintaining that lovely garden. He spanked hard and counted the smacks. After forty smacks, I started pedaling my legs and no longer cared what I was showing. He pinned one of my arms behind my back, and had one of his legs locking mine, and continued.
"Repeat after me for your first French lesson. Les paresseuses sont toujours fessées cul nu !"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
I got one hundred smacks. I had never received such a long and severe spanking. My bum and thighs were throbbing.
He helped me stand up and ordered, "Don't rub! Stand in that corner with your knickers still down and holding your skirt up." I was quite contrite. "Sniff!" I was indeed back in school and already spanked, well spanked.
While I was in the corner, he asked for my full name, age, address and more as he completed my file. "You will be boarding, sharing a room with 3 girls. The next term starts in a week. Your bank will have payed my fee by that time. There's no refund if you quit before the end of the term. If you quit, your bank will be made aware of that. You will return to Victoriana for a full kit."
"Yes Sir."
"I promise that you will be fluent, as if you had a French mother. Pull your knickers up, adjust your skirt and give this invoice to your bank. You will notice that my methods aren't mentioned. You may, if you want, tell your colleagues that you will be spanked as a naughty schoolgirl till you are fluent."
"Oh, I won't, Sir!"
"Very well, run along."
Alicia
To be continued...
NB : Les paresseuses sont toujours fessées cul nu = Lazy girls are always spanked bare butt.
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PS : The pic of the young lady being pulled by the ear is from Contemporary Life
So lush, B. I love all the vanilla contexts too, takes me back to my Uni days in the 1970s. Also has the literary vibe of those early Roue stories!
ReplyDeleteSpanking is a journey, not a destination :-)
This story is one of my faves. I always love the authenticity, rather than fantasy, as you know. A lovely Anglo-French spankalouge, so far, B.
Hugs & smackabotties to ya!
Brenda xx
Not an easy story, will try to keep it up...
DeleteB xx
Hello B - This is very well written and the picture of the young lady being pulled by her ear is excellent. Keep up the good work. Regards, Ben.
ReplyDeleteI have added credit to Contemporary Life for the pic of the young lady being pulled by the ear, thanks B :)
ReplyDeleteSooooo love that Janus cover, B. Skirt up & knicks down for the cane. That is how it should be. I gotten it. And I have always advocated it for daughters at home. The church moms all agreed too! Spare the rod spoil the child was uttered every week by y'all (if not every day!!)
ReplyDeleteThat Janus cover of blue knicks revealed reminds of a truly lovely Janus letter from a good, strict mother discussing her childhood CP in the 1950s:
"I knew three families where a wooden stick was always used on a bare behind for daughters"
she says. "And based on my experience
I never thought a spanking could be anything but bare bottom with a cane. And the spanker was generally a father"
How delightful, B. Love this one.
She continues about her panties-down, bare botty smackings with her papa's cane,
"was it particularly embarrassing to get it on the bare? No. All I could think about was how awfully it was going to sting. Obviously we hoped to keep our knickers up, as we believed it would sting less, but we never got a chance to know. "
Oh My! So stern, cute & candid, B..."we never got a chance to know" ha-ha! Very stern. Love it.
Moreover, she says "as a child I knew that my widowed grandfather had spanked my mother and her sister, my aunt, with the cane used on my sister and me in the very same way and place – because mother was born in the flat where I grew up and she lived there nearly all her life."
Delightfully, it was the aunt who told her niece, the writer, B, as her mom was reticent & coy.
Lovely mother/daughter scenario, B, & inter-generational situation here about her mom n aunt's canings...
Quote "how she and mother had bent over the foot end of the bed in the master bedroom with knickers at half mast for a dose of grandfather’s cane!"
And so the writer's mom had been regularly caned on a bare bum, quote, "a naughty girl that got her bare behind spanked by my beloved grandfather."
So love this, B, Why yes, the cane on naughty daughters' bare bottoms at home was a normal & necessary fact of life in my experience & advocacy, B.
Huggies dearest, B.
Strict Brenda x