Sunday, April 2, 2023

Marie-Chantal in Scotland, part 7

Mrs. Robertson had left the classroom. For a few minutes, it was only the sound of leafing through our report cards. Lucinda was first to sigh.

Our friends Amelia and Mia were exchanging high five, and already imagining how they would spend their extra pocket money.

Agatha didn't look too happy.

Margaret summed up her report card for me, "8/20 for that French dictation, and average grade down to 11.71/20."

I told her about mine, "7/20 for that math quiz, and average grade down to 10.37/20."

She repeated, "7/20! You have a grade below 8/20!"

I nodded with eyebrows doing an interrogative dance.

"It’s the tawse!"

"What's a tawse?"

"It's a Scottish strap, split lengthwise."


"It stings like the Dickens!"

Agatha joined us, "It's also the tawse for me."

Margaret sighed, "For me as well. I am under my required 12/20 average, plus that poor grade in French."

Although I had never seen a tawse, Margaret mentioning that it stings like the Dickens led me to visit the loos.

The ride back home was somber. We were jealous of the exuberance of Amelia and Mia. We were in no mood for chitchatting with our boyfriends.

Once back home we found Aunty Davina and Uncle Archie in the lounge. They were obviously waiting for us. I gave my report card to Aunty, because she was closest to me.

We were standing in front of the coffee table while they read them. They exchanged them, and continued reading. They didn't look too happy.

"Marie-Chantal, isn't Margaret helping you with your math?"

"Yes Ma'am, but it was a surprise quiz."

Uncle Archie spoke, "We are very disappointed. Margaret that 8/20 for the French dictation is appalling, and your average is below 12/20."

He continued with my report, "Marie-Chantal, a grade under 8/20 is a disgrace, and your average has slipped."

We were heads down, with our hands already rubbing our behinds when sentence was passed. "You will both receive eight strokes of the tawse. Margaret please bring the tawse."

I had never looked into that drawer where the hairbrush is kept. She opened it, and pulled the tawse out. I discovered a leather strap split length wise till its handle. I mused, it's like a double belt. Having never had a belt applied to my bottom, nor any serious spankings, I again needed the loo.

Margaret had also visited the water closet. When we were back, Uncle sternly ordered. "Take off your knickers both of you. Drop them on the coffee table and bend down till having your hands flat on it. Each time you are breaking your position you will get an extra stroke."

Aunty Davina raised our skirts. I blushed crimson. Although being nineteen, with my bare bum up in the air, I felt like a gamine about to be punish for poor schoolwork.

Uncle Archie started with Margaret. I heard a loud SMACK and "OUCH!" which suggested that it was going to be une sévère fessée.

Another loud, SMACK! A split second later, I was louder than Margaret with, "OH! AH! AIE!"

A wide stripe of fire was burning across my derriere.

Margaret got her second stroke, which she greeted with another convincing, "OUCH!"

Then I got mine. SMACK! The stripe of fire devouring my bottom had grown wider. "OH! AH! AIE! AIE!"

Margaret got her third. She was more vocal.

I remembered Papa's having told me. "Maybe I should have spanked you, when you were lazy with your homework..." That train of thoughts was interrupted by, SMACK! I duly responded with, "OH! AH! AIE! AIE! AIE!"

I felt my eyes watering. I was indeed being punished for my poor schoolwork, and being nineteen meant nothing.

We just about sang for the following strokes. I wriggled my fiery nates in vain attempts to cool them. I had to open my legs to avoid falling. I shamefully closed them with my ears tickling from embarrassment. After a few more smacks I didn't bother. I felt tears, and my whole bum was on fire.

Uncle Archie announced, "Your last stroke will be across your thighs, for the shame of showing everyone that you have been punished for laziness."

I just about jumped out of my socks with that stroke, and it was repeated. My butt and thighs were a burning inferno, but I remembered not to rub. Aunty rolled our skirts up, and we were sent into our respective corners in the dinning room.

"Sob... Sniff..."

I was for the second time cul nu au coin exposing my incandescent derriere to the world. I further tightened my hands atop my head to refrain from rubbing. I was well punished. I couldn't help sniveling.

Marie-Chantal and Margaret

To be continued...


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