Sunday, April 9, 2023

Marie-Chantal in Scotland, part 8

As soon as we were allowed out of our corners, I rubbed my still throbbing bottom and thighs. The sting was so intense. I even danced on the spot while rubbing. I was about to take the stairs two by two, for dipping my derriere into the bathtub, when Aunty Davina said, "Don't forget your knickers!"

 I picked up my knickers from the coffee table and ran with Margaret. I followed her lead for the after spanking care. She has more experience! We first surveyed the damages in the tall mirror of the bathroom. Our bums were a deep shade of crimson. I was surprised. I thought they would be bluish. I realized that Uncle Archie only meant to teach us a lesson, a stingy lesson, but no more. Margaret gave me a wet flannel. While I rubbed, she prepared a cold bath. We undressed and shared it.

From below we Aunty announced, "Soon time to set up the table girls!"

Although we weren't expecting anyone for dinner, I wanted to hide the shameful tawse stripes decorating my thighs. I was about to wear the knee length family tartan kilt, when Margaret said, "It isn't Sunday!" As her, I was again wearing my school skirt.

For dinner we fidgeted in our seats. With my sore bum, I was super self conscious that I was, at nineteen, punished as a lazy school girl. Uncle reminded us our goals. I was keeping my head down and my eyes on my plate, till he sternly added, "Understood Marie-Chantal!"

I had to raise my red face, and answered, "Yes, Sir."

Then it was Saturday. We were all invited for a barbecue by Agatha's parents. They were returning our previous invite. We had little choice, it was cords or jeans miniskirts. We modeled them, and they were the same length. Margaret advised, "The cords, they are softer."

Blushing as red as our thighs, we just about ran across the front yard to jump onto the back seat of the family's Jaguar. Then we looked out to see if the pimpled face boys of the neighbors had seen us. There was no one about. "Phew!"

Agatha's parents welcomed us with pecks on our foreheads. Next, our friend greeted us. We saw her thighs were their usual peachy color. She explained, that she had redeeming good grades in English literature.

"Lucky besom!"

She smiled, but she also rubbed her bum.

The barbecue, with gigantic grilled shrimps, and spicy chicken drumsticks, was great.

With my friends I overheard the chat between Agatha's mother and Aunty Davina.

"Archie gave your French girl a good taste of Scottish discipline."

Aunty replied, "We are hoping she understands it is about time to pull up her socks."

I blushed.

Next was Sunday, and mass. With our knee length McTavish kilts we didn't advertise that we were punished. With the merciless church's straw chairs, the old church mice soon spotted the naughty ones. The after mass priory garden socializing was embarrassing with Aunty Davina telling the neighbors that we were punished. I already imagined our return to school on Monday.

It was to be worse than I had imagined. First there was the high above the saddle uphill ride. As usual the boys waited for the girls and followed them closely to feast their eyes. A few "good" girls with peachy thighs and bums teased them. A few more, as Margaret and I, rode as fast as we could. The boys eventually disappeared into their part of the school. "Phew!"

While we waited in line to show a supervisor, that our report cards were duly signed by our parents, comments fused.

"Judging by the colorful of Frenchy's thighs, she must have had her ass well tanned."

I was relieved when Lucinda stole the show. She had narrow blueish cane stripes peeking under her uniform skirt.


I decided then, that I didn't want to be back in school, at twenty-one, as Lucinda. I resolved to work real hard. I slowly raised my average grade. I avoided grades under 10/20.

A few months later, as Margaret, I got my A-level with honors. We danced after having read our names on the roll of honor. William and Arthur joined us, and we danced the more.

I thanked Aunty and Uncle. They were as emotional as I was.

"Sorry lass to have given you the tawse."

"Sorry to have deserved it."

We hugged, and I promised to visit them regularly.

A few days later I was back in France with Papa and Maman. They beamed with pride. I was bilingual with English. I spoke even faster than Papa!

German was next.


To be continued in Germany...


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