Marie-Chantal in Scotland, part 3

Standing in the corner with my hands atop my head like a naughty ten-year-old, I was shamefully exposing my fiery bottom with my skirt bunched up and my knickers having dropped around my ankles. I desperately wanted to sooth my burning bum, but I knew that I would get another spanking if I did.

I was lucky that it wasn't a working day for Mrs McTavish's maid, but I was concerned that someone might visit. I imagined the comments, "The big French girl was taught a lesson." Or, "What a shame to be spanked on the bare at her age." Worse was imagining the neighbors from across the street, visiting with their pimpled face boy. 'Oh no, I'll die!'

 Mrs. Mc T chimed, "Marie-Chantal, you now know how we deal with naughty girls in this house. You should also know that your father was told of our methods, and he has approved them." I silently sighed. I should have known. "You may rub your bottom, pull up your knickers, adjust your skirt, and run along."

I didn't need to be told twice. I ran upstairs to the bathroom I share with Margaret. I pulled up my mini and lowered my knickers to survey the damages in the tall mirror, my derriere wasn't black and blue, but it was well reddened. I gently rubbed it with a wet flannel, it was a great relief. I again heard Mrs. McTavish ordering, "Marie-Chantal! Take your school uniform out of the bag and hang it in your closet." As I was doing that Margaret joined me.

"It was your first spanking, wasn't it?"

I soberly nodded.

"You're lucky it wasn't Poppa!"

I apprehensively rubbed my derriere with one hand while storing my cotton knickers and grey knee socks in my commode.

"When he smacks my bum with his hand, it feels like the hairbrush from Mom."

"Huh!"

"I can't describe how it feels when he's using the hairbrush, its so... so intense."

I didn't know what to say.

She continued. "He gave me two dozen smacks last night. You want to see?"

 I must have somehow nodded. She raised her mini and pulled her knickers up into her rear valley. I saw dark red semi circles decorating her cheeks.

"I saw how you wriggled in your chair this morning."

She winked, "I have noticed."

"You're still sore?"

"Nah, am ok now."

"How long is your bottom going to be bruised?"

"About a week, maybe less with regular soaks with Epsom Salts."

From below Mrs. Mc T called, "Come and set the table, both of you!" Margaret hurried down. I followed her just as fast. After having received la fessée cul nu, I sure didn't want to keep her waiting.

We had finished setting the table when her father came back from his club. Mrs. McTavish told him, "I had to punish Marie-Chantal for bad language at the uniform shop."

I blushed crimson, and she added. "Marie-Chantal, turn around, raise your skirt and lower your knickers!" I was frozen. She added, "Do it now or you will be again spanked, and this time it will be my husband doing it."

I remembered the words of Margaret about her father's spankings. I slowly obeyed. I blushed so red that I felt my ears tickling when I lowered my knickers.

"It was your first spanking, Marie-Chantal?"

I pitifully answered, "Yes Sir."

Red face and with my knickers still down, I listened, "We will be closely watching your grades. You will be punished for each grade under 10/20. As you will improve, we will raise that requirement to 11/20 and hopefully to 12/20, as Margaret."

I nodded.

"We have promised your father that you will have your A-levels with honors. You will also be perfectly bilingual."

I again nodded.

"You may raise your knickers, and adjust your skirt."

Dinner was great. They said that I should call them Aunty Davina and Uncle Archie. I told that Papa and Maman also call me Marie. Then they announced that tomorrow after mass and lunch they will take me visit the Edinburgh castle with a private guide. I beamed.

Next morning for mass, Margaret gave me an above knees kilted skirt in the tartan of the McTavish. "You are our guest, therefore you should wear our tartan." I was honored. Aunty Davina wore a below the knees kilted skirt, and for Uncle Archie it was trews, both in their tartan. We were another Scottish family attending mass. We girls found the church's chairs quite hard for our still sore derrieres.

After mass, everyone socialized in the church's garden. Margaret introduced me to her friend Agatha. She told her as if mentioning the weather. "Yesterday Marie-Chantal got her first skelping from Mom." I didn't know the word, but I didn't need a translation when Agatha chimed back, "Welcome to the club!" I was quite surprised by their pragmatic approach to such form of discipline. I nonetheless blushed, and they both laughed.

Lunch was at the family's favorite pub. I discovered haggis, and I liked it. I wasn't offered a beer. I was introduced to a few friends of the family. One of them seemed to have had too much whisky. He greeted me with, "Welcome to Scotland Sassanach!"

Uncle Archie sternly replied, "She isn't a Sassanach, she's French and she wears our tartan."

The guy apologized, "I am sorry Frenchy!"

Margaret explained, Sassanach is a derogatory word meaning foreigner. She added, "You're not a Sassanach because you're French, its about the Auld Alliance." I of course knew of the 1295 Auld Alliance between Scotland and France.

Next we visited the castle. The throne room was fascinating. I imagined Mary Stuart having sat there...

Marie-Chantal and Margaret

To be continued...

./...

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