Marie-Chantal in Germany part 8 and Epilogue

Sunday morning we woke up with a hangover. It wasn't only about what we had drank at Lucy's birthday party. It was also about Aunty having promised us the martinet after our failed attempt to sneak back home past our curfew. We didn't have much appetite for breakfast, and the sight of the martinet already on the dinning room table didn't help.

 

"Marie-Chantal you will be first because you are older."

 

I wasn't much older than Eva, but arguing might not be the best idea under the circumstances.

 

"Lower your knickers, and kneel on the stepping stool with your hands on the floor."

 

I felt my skirt rising as I reached for the floor. It stopped short of revealing my apricot. Aunty flipped my skirt down my back, and my bottom felt so bare as it stood above my head. I felt a hot flush as I blushed.

 

My knickers fluttered down my thighs. I pressed my knees together hoping to hide my shamefully smiling apricot, but it was impossible. For my greater shame it was going to be the epitome of la fessée cul nu au martinet, a bare ass whipping. I blushed the more.

 

The martinet didn't hiss, didn't warn, it whipped my bottom with discreet but incandescent smacks. I started singing the song of the punished naughty girl.

 

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

"OH! AH! OUCH! AIE! AIE! AIE!"

 

I had imagined that I would feel each of the leather tails. I was wrong they felt as one beside the occasional strays adventurously tickling uncharted valleys. With both my hands on the ground there was no way to avoid them. I felt my bum gyrating under the martinet. I kept on singing.

 

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

"OH! AH! AIE! OUCH! OUCH! OUCH!"

 

"All your friends at school will see how I deal with my girls when they come back home late, and drunk as hussies!"

 

Having said that she whipped my thighs. I sang as Tintin's Castafiore.

 

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

"OH! AH! AIE! AIE! AIE! AIE!"

 I was well punished when she told me to stand. "Take off your knickers and skirt, and stand in front of that wall with your hands atop your head."

 

Eva was next and on my way I saw what I had exposed with that embarrassing position. I retrospectively blushed crimson.

 

Once the three of us were finally punished, bare from our navels without our skirts, we faced the wall of the dining room.

 

We were eventually told to pick up our skirts and knickers. We hurried upstairs to our rooms and rubbed each other with cold cream. We didn't have time for more. Aunty Bertha was already announcing lunch. We were quite surprised when we saw that she had prepared our favorite dark chocolate mousse for dessert. It was her way of saying that she loves us even if we were naughty.

 

Monday came and we discovered that we weren't the only girls to have been punished for having over enjoyed Lucy's birthday bash. Our boyfriends wanted to caress our decorated thighs. We didn't mind too much!

 

That martinet became Tata's favorite implement. We tasted it at least once a month. When I failed a German grammar test. It convinced me to learn all the declensions by heart! I got my Abitur with honors like Eva. I was quite proud as Papa and Maman came for the graduation ceremony.

 

Epilogue.

 

I was multilingual as I returned to France and admitted to the best business school. By the end of my first year I had a poor grade in statistics. Maman teased, "You deserve a fessée!"

 

Later, back in my room I tried to re-read that hated statistic lesson. I couldn't focus on it. The words of Maman came back. I realized that I "do" deserve a spanking, and bare butt as a lazy school girl.

 

I would never be able to explain how or why I got one of Papa's old crocodile belts and returned to the kitchen. I gave that belt to Maman. She was flabbergasted. She took it without a word. I told her, "I deserve la fessée." I raised my skirt and bent over one of the chairs. I added, "La fessée cul nu as a lazy school girl." Having said that I lowered my knickers with a blush.

 

I further added. "According to Mrs McTavish its eight smacks because I should have had at least 12/20 and my grade for that paper was 4/20, plus four for a grade under 8/20, and two across my thighs for having failed to reach 5/20."

 

Maman had remained silent, but I felt a streak of fire across my nates. I heard her counting the strokes. The two across my thighs had me dancing and I almost forgot my incandescent butt. I was sniffling. I was well punished and my knickers had dropped around my ankles. I stepped out of them and holding my skirt up I went out of the kitchen to face the wall in the lounge.

 

Maman had me stop in my track as she sternly ordered. "Take off your skirt. Hands atop your head." She also had me hold my paper with my nose, and that 4/20 in red ink was right in front of my brimming eyes. I was quite a sight for Papa that evening.

 

Later, on my bed and still bare butt, I rubbed my stingy thighs. I was well encouraged to read and re-read that lesson about statistic.

 

Next morning I decided to wear jeans to hide my belted thighs. Maman frowned, "Last night I had a chat with Mrs McTavish and she told me that you should wear your usual miniskirt."

"But Maman! What about the university?"

She interrupted me. "Change now or I will select your shortest mini!"

I never again had a grade under 5/20!

 

Both ends of that belt were taped together and it was hung behind the kitchen's door till I was given my diploma. Papa never used it, but Maman did a great job!

 

I graduated top of my class and joined one of the leading banks in London. I had to choose and married William my Scottish boyfriend. All my sisters, aunties and uncles were invited for the wedding.....

 

Marie-Chantal

 

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