Victoriana part 8

A week later, I was back at the bank. The tellers were still competing for who would dare to wear the shortest miniskirt. The cashiers still had a hard time taking their eyes off their thighs. Everyone cheerfully greeted me.

 

I stepped inside my office and dropped my satchel on my desk. I immediately noticed a flyer for the Ecole Ecarlate in the middle of my desk blotter.

Ecole Ecarlate 

Enseignement tradionnel du français

Old fashioned method

Guarantied results !

 Birchwood Manor

Upper Swishingham

I heard the tellers giggling. I had a feeling that it was they who had found that flyer. I blushed as I worried. Could it be that they have guessed ?

I had a sealed letter from the Ecole Ecarlate for our manager. I knew that it is a report for my first 3 weeks because Mr Maurice had said so. It was addressed to him because he had our agency pay for the crash course instead of the London head office. He figured that they would balk for the fee.

I remembered before departing, Josephina had whispered, "If Pop doesn't like that report, I'll for sure get a belting..."

I stepped into my private restroom and dabbed my face with a wet towel to prevent further blushing. Then I was on my way to the first floor.

I was warmly greeted by our deputy manager and the secretaries. I had a cup of coffee with them. Ten minutes later, we were joined by our manager. He was always 10 minutes late as if to say, "Who arrives after me is late." He poured himself a cup of coffee and asked me to follow him into his office.

He closed the door and reminded me. "You remember that your father, my old friend, told me to encourage you..."

I blushed and nodded.

While he sat down with his cup of coffee and he asked. "You must have been given a report card."

I gave him the Ecole Ecarlate letter with his name. He sat behind his desk, sliced it open and slowly read it aloud while I stood in front of his desk.

"Alicia has made great progress with her French fluency. We have awarded her 14/20 for that performance. On the other hand, her grammar and spelling grade of 10/20 is below our minimum requirement of 12/20. We of course know that most exams wouldn't fail her with 10/20, but we feel that our students should excel. With two more cessions to go, we have no doubt that with hard work and proper discipline she will reach our standards."

I couldn't help blushing as a schoolgirl bringing home a barely average report card.

After a short silence, he added as if musing for himself. "When my daughter brought home poor grades, she was belted. Your father decided that I should belt you as I belted my girl."

He continued, "I brought the strap I used to apply to my daughter's bottom." He pulled out of his attaché case a thick belt and doubled it. "Take off your skirt and knickers."

I blushed red and redder till shamefully standing in front of my manager with both hands in front of my fuzzy peach.

"Elbows on my desk. I see that you were caned at school. "Why?"

"I whispered to help out a French girl with English spelling, and was punished for cheating."

"Serves you right!"

Then his belt sizzled my bum and thighs. He didn't count, and I didn't either. I was too busy dancing. "Now for the part that my daughter specially hated, "Stand and turn around." Twice he smacked the front of my thighs exactly under my curls. I danced the twist!

"No rubbing! Hands on your head, and stand in that corner while I your father..."

There was a sudden knock on the door. Someone had worked late. He told me to disappear into his private bathroom. I didn't need to be told twice. Through the door, I heard that it was his secretary. I suddenly realized that my pink knickers and that belt must have remained on his desk.

 I heard her say, "Here is the report you asked for, sir ..." 

After an exchanged or 'good evening' I heard his office door being closed, and he called me out of his bathroom.

I immediately saw that my flowery knickers were still on his desk, but the belt wasn't. I was sure that she would guess that it was my knickers, and that I was hiding in his bathroom. I felt my ears tickling, a sure sign that I was blushing as red as a tomato...

Alicia

 

To be continued...

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Big mustache

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Martinet UK vintage magazine

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Victoriana part 7

As we drove back to the French Crimson School castle, Josy teased, "That was a big slurppy kiss that boy gave you !"

 

Agathe added, "And he had one hand under your skirt!"

 

I laughed, "And the boy who had called you a sassy brunette had both hands under your skirt!"

 

After dinner, we watched a documentary about Marie-Antoinette. One of the French girls said, "The king was taken to the scaffold in a closed carriage, and she was taken in a cart. Those sans-culottes sure weren't feminists."

 

Next morning, Mesdames Olivia and Yvonne took turns scolding us. "You were naughty girls, all of you at the Versailles castle, you will have a blackboard spelling test!"

 

The French girls pulled long faces. We questioned them and weren't offered more than 'you'll know soon enough!'

 

Morning exercises and breakfast were followed by that blackboard spelling bee tests. I was one of the first to be called in front of the class.

 

Monsieur Maurice, with his super French accent, gave me my first word, dépencière. I wrote it on the blackboard with an S instead of a C. He had me raise my skirt and lower my knickers. I now had a very good idea of what would happen for my next mistakes. 

 Narcissique was my next word, and I wrote it with 3 S. I got 6 vigorous hand smacks. Hédoniste followed and I'll never know why I spelled it with an A instead of an O. I was given another 6 more smacks, and would for sure remember how to spell it. For sourcilleux I missed the R and the double L, 12 sharp smacks were added.

The test was over. My bum was glowing. "A pitiful result! Raise and hold your skirt front and back for the martinet."

 

I got the usual 12 strokes, but 2 of the strokes to the front of my thighs had to be repeated because I dropped my skirt while doing a brat dance.

 

  Then it was the turn of the French girls. Marie was the last one. Monsieur Armstrong, with his super English accent, gave her first word, spendthrift. She wrote it on the blackboard without the T and her skirt was raised and her knickers lowered. Narcissistic was her next word, and she got 6 more smacks for having written it the French way with que final instead of C. For supercilious, I whispered O when I saw that she had missed it.

 

"Alicia! That's cheating and cheaters are caned. Come to the front of the class. Raise your skirt, take down your knickers, and bend over that desk."

 

Yikes! The cane! I had never received a caning. I was again bare butt in front of the whole classroom, and I was scared.

 

"Six of the best!"

 

I saw that it was a thin and light cane. I guessed that's why the French girls call it a junior cane. That didn't reassure me. Mr strong-arm had it whistling through the air. I shuddered. 

 

 The first stroke took my breath away. I exhaled with an "ARGH!"

It was the fiercest sting I had ever felt!

The second stroke was below the first one. I had another loud "ARGHH!"

I stomped my feet, feeling that my bottom was laddered, but I knew that it wasn't for having seen Agathe's bum after her caning.

The third stroke was, of course, below the first two. I blew a louder "ARGHHH!"

Stomping my feet, wriggling my derriere, didn't help, and my eyes watered.

With the fourth strokes, my bum no longer made the difference with the previous three. "ARGHHHH!"

After number five and six, I was a well chastised girl. When told to stand, my hands flew to rub my blazing bottom.

 

"Take your knickers and skirt off, and go stand in that corner !" With teary eyes, I removed my knickers and skirt. I left them on that desk and shamefully went to stand in the corner.

 

Alicia

 

To be continued...

 

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A few Waldo drawings

 

You wanted to see my knickers....

Not to worry Mom, I am not talking to these boys, they are only watching me on the swing...

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Victoriana part 6

 Back at our dorm room and still blushing from having received a bare bottom spanking in front of the class, Marie cheerfully teased, "Have you enjoyed our slipper?"

 

Agathe mischievously added, "We now also know that you are a real redhead!"

 

Josy joined the fun, "You have pedaled as if training for the Tour de France!"

 

I humored them, "That leather sole whatever slipper is nefarious!"

 

They all laughed at my choice of word.

 

Next was dinner with fish and chips. It was perfectly cooked, and the French girls enjoyed as much as us!

 

All those who were punished were teased in good spirit. One of the French girls who had tasted our martinet told, "It sure is more severe than the one we had at home, and getting an additional stroke each time you drop your skirt was devilish! I got 18 instead of 12!"

 

One of us chimed, "Imagine a grade under 5/20, it would be two dozens!"

 

They had a big screen telly, and we watched, "Coming Home" adapted from Rosamunde Pilcher's novel. It was so romantic and so dramatic that we cried buckets.

 

Next morning while having a Franco-British breakfast, it was announced that we would be visiting the Chateau de Versailles.

 

We remembered the magic Marie-Antoinette movie by Sophia Coppola. We paired and waltzed into the hall of mirrors. Then a naughty one had the idea of skidding on the superb marble floor. It was great fun. A few of us fell and continued on the seat of their knickers.

A pair of museum guards came running. "Stop that ! You will scratch the marble!" We laughed, and two of us tried to invite them into a waltz. They didn't want to dance. They spotted our professors and admonished them, "If they were in our care, we would give them la fessée!"

 

A young girl questioned her mother, "Aren't they too old for la fessée cul nu ?"

Her mother had no doubt, "They certainly are not!"

 

Monsieur Armstrong replied, "We can't spank them in the middle of the hall of mirrors!"

 

A group of English school boys wearing very British uniforms with long grey shorts laughed. They obviously had no objection to watching us being spanked.

.

The guards were happy to help. "That's no problem, please follow us!" We weren't too surprised to be told to follow. A door with a sign reading 'No Entry' was unlocked. It was some janitorial storeroom with mops, vacuum cleaners, and floor polishing machines.

 

Mr Maurice mentioned, "We should have brought our martinet." Madame Yvonne was practical. "You gentlemen have your belts..."

 

Mr Armstrong called, "Alicia come here. Take your knickers down to your knees and grab your ankles..."

My skirt had ridden till right under my bum. He further raised it. I felt a cool draft followed by a fiery stripe. I remembered Daddy's belt. Monsieur strong arm methodically worked down my bum and thighs. I had let go of my ankles and he warned, "Keep you hands away or I will smack the front of your thighs!" I knew the fierce sting of the martinet on the front of the thighs. I didn't want to compare with the belt. I again grabbed my ankles.

I imagined how those British boys must have heard it all through that flimsy janitorial door. We stepped out of our improvised punishment room with deep blushes. We blushed the more when we saw the welcoming comity of rascals.

One of them howled like a wolf. "Oh! I would love to caress the reddened thighs of that sassy brunette!"

 

Their masters pulled them away, and we gave a high five for Agathe, the sassy brunette. We continued the visit until it was time for lunch.

 

A short walk through the castle's park led us to a coffee shop. Our profs gave us money to buy sandwiches and sat on a nearby picnic terrace. With our snacks, we choose to sit on the picnic lawn. Those British boys spotted us and sat right next to us with their own sandwiches. Properly sitting on a lawn with a short skirt was just about impossible, and the boys had more than glimpses of our knickers. We were, of course, aware of their gleaming eyes, and a few of us gave them an eyeful!

 

 A few of them joined us. One of them offered me a can of coca cola as he sat next to me. "Whats your name?"

"Alicia, and you?"

"Rodger."

"Thanks for the coke Rodger."

"That was quite a belting you got!"

"Have you ever been belted?"

"Oh yes, and I was also caned."

He moved closer and shyly caressed one of my knees.

I smiled. I felt as if back in time, I was again seventeen...

 

Alicia

 

To be continued...

 

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