I am Sophie, 18 years and from Paris, with my friend Denise also 18, we stepped off the Eurostar at Waterloo early Saturday morning. It isn't our first visit to the UK. We have been on a few teenage exchange programs to improve our English. We are travelling light with overnight backpacks, and have dressed with jeans miniskirts to conquer Albion's capital!
From Waterloo we took the Tube to our hotel in Soho, and were surprised by the number of girls wearing miniskirts. Denis giggled, "London invented the mini !" From Piccadilly we entered the heart of Soho with Old Compton street. We weren't too surprised to discover shops with black curtains. It is the neighborhood we weren't allowed to visit as teenagers.
The hotel is an old Victorian mansion transformed into an hotel with big rooms and attached bathrooms with claw-foot bathtubs. After having left our backpacks in our room we had a spicy snack of chicken and rice curry at a street side stall, Denise philosophized, "In France its couscous, and in the UK its curry..."
We explored a fashion shop, and were quite surprised. The window was quite tame, once inside it was another story. We discovered maid outfits and adult school uniforms for 'boys' and 'girls'.
We further explored and froze in front of short red tartan kilts. They reminded us of our last summer camp in the Lake District. Louise one of the English girls wearing a similar skirt was caned. We were quite jealous of that brazen girl who became the leader of the gang after her caning. As French girls we weren't spanked, therefore we had to be content to be mere followers. We now feel that we would have had more fun if we had been treated like our British chums.
As I felt the woolly fabric of those kilts I mused, "I am still wondering how it would have felt to be caned as Louise..."
Denis decided that we should buy those kilts. I laughed, "We'll sorta feel like Louise !" We also picked up pairs of white schoolgirl knickers and immediately changed. "Whoa! Its very short !" I tried to tug my skirt down and blushed as Denise teased me, "Ce sera pas le première fois que tu montres ta culotte !"
I was still blushing as we entered the Janus bookshop. We weren't too interested in the glossy magazines, nor the pricey old French novels with ink drawings. The back room with the videos was ignored. We stopped a few seconds by a display of canes and discreetly fingered them. Denise teasingly whispered, "Imagine it applied to your bare butt..." I giggled and spotted a pile of flyers,
Have you been a naughty girl ?
Will you have the courage to own up ?"
There was an address down the street. Once outside we sat at the terrace of a pub and ordered tall beers. We were both curious of that Spanking Confessional but we were shy to mention it to the other one.
At the next table two girls our age were laughing and repeatedly pulling on their skirts in vain attempts to cover the wide red marks decorating the front of their thighs. They had obviously received a belting.
We had both noticed those two punished girls, and it was the trigger. We winked in unison, and Denise challenged, "If you're game I am as well !" I answered with high five.
Five minutes later we were in front of the Spanking Confessional which was a Victorian row-house. "I have butterflies in my tummy !" Denise shrugged and pushed the intercom. A male voice answered, "Please come in, the door is open, and wait in the lounge on your right..."
The decor was classy with wood paneling, antic furniture and Indian rugs. In the middle of a coffee table by the empty fireplace was a small wicker basket with a card reading, "For donations - No less than £20 per visitor !" While we waited we saw a girl about our age on her way out. With both hands she was rubbing her short skirt over her derriere. Her mini rode up and revealed reddened thighs.
A tall gentleman in his fifties followed and admonished her, "Next time I won't be so lenient !" He was wearing an opened black academic gown over a grey tweed suit. We stood up when he turned towards us and questioned with a severe voice, "What is it this time ?"
For a second we were taken aback, but we soon understood his act and Denise caught up. "The mice in the kitchen... It was us." I remembered that prank at summer camp. The English girls knowing that we wouldn't be spanked had convinced us to do the deed...
"I am the new Headmaster and the cook told me of that silliness." He must have picked up Denise's accent and added, "French girls are no longer exempt from punishment !"
He sat on a nearby chair and pulled Denise by an ear till she had no choice but to come across his knees. Her miniskirt was swiftly raised and her knickers lowered. She barely had time to say, "OH!" He gave her quite and spanking and also smacked her thighs. She pedaled and scissored her legs. I saw everything she has. Then he helped her up, "Keep your skirt up and watch your friend get her well deserved spanking !"
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me over his knees, yanked my mini kilt up and my knickers came down. I hastily closed my legs. He spanked my bottom and thighs till I shamelessly pedaled as much as Denise ! "Go stand next to your accomplice, and keep your skirt up !"
It wasn't our first spanking, our mothers had spanked us quite a few times. We gathered that it was only an appetizer when we saw him picking up a tawse from behind the door. He announced with an interrogative tone as if asking us to agree. "Next should be a well deserved Scottish belting..." Denise agreed for both of us with a silly contrite voice, "We are very sorry Sir..."
Then he sternly ordered, "Take off your knickers and drop them on the coffee table by the fire place."
We exchanged, 'I dare you winks', and obeyed.
"In time honored British schoolgirl fashion, bend down and grab your ankles."
We again obeyed with more daring you winks.
He smacked our derrieres alternating for one to the other. I was the first to let off my ankles and he belted my thighs. "Each time you are letting go of your ankles I will belt your thighs !" I hurriedly again grabbed my ankles.
We both chanted, "OH! AH! OUCH!" as we both had again let go of our ankles...
Our bottoms and thighs were throbbing, but we had been belted at home by our fathers. We were still curious of the famous English school cane. We almost smiled when Mister Headmaster said, "You also deserve to be caned ?!" He remained silent for a few seconds and he added, "You will know how English girls are punished !" He was obviously waiting for our consent. We looked at each other, and nodded.
From the umbrella stand her took a cane similar to those we had seen at Janus. I watched with wide eyes as he flexed and swished it through the air. The hissing sound had me shuddering. I had second thoughts, but I wouldn't be the one chickening out !
"Bend down over each arms of the settee... Six of the best... If you rub the stroke will be repeated..." We again heard that cane hissing. I shivered, my bottom felt so embarrassingly bare.
Denise squealed ! The next one was for me, and my derriere felt as if it was horizontally sliced. "ARGH! OUCH!"
After my fourth searing stroke my hands flew to rub my burning bum. I heard him again counting, "Four!" as he repeated my fourth stroke. "ARGHH! OUCH!"
I thought of giving up, but I heard him repeat, "Five!" I understood that Denise had rubbed after her fifth stroke. I was not going to be further under done.
I took my remaining two strokes,
"OH! ARGHHH! OUCH!" I felt my eyes watering...
I had received seven strokes my bottom was on fire, and my thighs were still throbbing from the tawse,
"Keep your skirts up and stand in the corner..." I rubbed on the way to the corner. He grabbed my wrist, had me twirling on the spot and slapped my thighs. "No rubbing !"
Denise must have similarly rubbed as I heard her squealing. "Aie! AIE!"
Ten minutes later we are out on the street rubbing our bottoms and thighs as discreetly as possible. A few giggling boys had us realizing that our kilts were too short to hide our tawse decorated thighs. We blushed as red as tomatoes, and ran back to the pub.
The two girls of earlier were still there. They of course immediately noticed that we were punished. They called the waiter, "Two tall beers with shots, on us !" They asked, "Strap or cane ?"
"La fessée, la tawse et la cane ! Oops ! Sorry, I meant spanked, tawsed and caned." Having said that I felt myself blushing to my ears as a punished schoolgirl...
"Oh la la! my bottom and thighs a on fire !"
Denis explained, "We wanted to know whats its like to be punished as British girls."
I painfully squirmed in my chair as I summed up, "Aie! Aie! It was very severe !"
Denise was curious, "What about you ?"
"We were given punishment slips..."
"We were lucky, the cane wasn't requested..."
Sophie and Denise
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