Sunday, March 1, 2026

Eilean Beithe Academy II - part 1

It was a small add, in the miscellaneous classifieds of a psychology magazine; I had picked up at the hairdresser. It read: "If you are a young lady struggling with having to retake your A-levels, or about to take the entrance exam to a prestigious university. Eilean Beithe Academy will make sure you succeed with time proven methods..."

Stuck in a secretarial pool, I couldn't hope for more than being selected as a private assistant. I had to retake my A-levels, and graduate from a good university. A month ago I inherited enough money to stop working for a few years or buy a miniature London apartment. I wrote down the telephone number for the Eilean Beithe Academy.

A week later I was late for work, and the tube wasn't overcrowded. It was the time for those who didn't have to punch a clock. Gentlemen politely stood for ladies. One could actually ear the radio in the background. Unfortunately I will have to apologize to the secretarial pool matron for my lateness.

She was exceptionally mean, and it was the last straw breaking the back of this camel. I remembered the telephone number for Eilean Beithe. I wandered if they could guarantee my A-levels, I don’t want to waste my small capital.

I called during my mid morning break. A very professional assistant gave me an exceptional Saturday morning appointment with the Registrar.

"Thank you Ma'am!"

Saturday morning, after a long ride on the tube I stood in front of a small Victorian house in a lovely neighborhood.

I saw how it was shared by accountants and lawyers. I rang the bell for the Eilean Beithe Academy. A male voice came through the intercom, "Good morning, second floor, the door on the right..."

The door was ajar and from inside I heard the same voice, "Don't be shy, and come in." I walked through a deserted front office which wasn't surprising on a Saturday. I noticed the modern furniture, and an elegant gentleman standing by the door of a large office and lounge with a floor to ceiling library. "Miss Jennifer Davenport I presume."

"Yes Sir."

"Please come in, and take a seat." I stopped in my tracks as I discovered a huge picture of a Scottish castle on a small peninsula.

 

 

"Our Eilean Beithe castle."


"Its superb!"

I was again invited to sit in front of large glass table with aluminum trestles. "Please tell us how we could help you."

"I would like to retake my A-levels, and graduate from a good university."

"One year to prepare your A-levels, and another one for preparing the entrance exam to the University of your choice."

I nodded.

"During your time at that university, we also offer Easter and summer classes to make sure you graduate with top honors."

"I have a small capital, and I don't want to waste it..."

"If you fail your A-levels you will be refunded."

"Huh!"

"Don't say 'Huh!' It is very unladylike."

"Sorry Sir."

"Please have a look at the brochure."

I read, "The self consciousness of having to wear a school uniform with a short kilt exposing plenty of bare thighs to be smacked if slacking...

Character building discipline with plenty of physical exercises...

Very carefully selected professors and coaches...

Classes limited to a dozen pupils...

Individual monitoring to make sure lessons are well understood...

Supervised homework by a dedicated professor...

"Very… very interesting!"

He sternly replied, "Very interesting, Sir!"

"Yes, sorry Sir. It is very interesting, Sir!"

"Will you be able to afford our fees? Which includes full board, kit and etc?"

"Yes Sir."

"You have to understand that you will be paying in advance. Again we will refund you if you fail your A-levels. We never had to refund any of our girls."

"Were you punished by your parents when you had poor grades or misbehaved, and how? »

I blushed as I answered, "I was rarely spanked, Sir"

"Please sign the preliminary consent form, and write: If warranted I agree to be subjected to corporal punishment."

I again blushed, and wrote the line.

"You are going to be punished for having failed your A-levels. Stand, take off your jacket, skirt, woolly tights and knickers."

"Huh!"

"What have I told you about unladylike speech?"

He slapped my left cheek as if dealing with an impertinent schoolgirl. I was rubbing my smarting cheek, and he had kept his hand up for another slap.

I hurriedly apologized, "Sorry Sir, very sorry Sir!"

I felt a hot flush, and was for sure blushing crimson when taking off my skirt and thighs.
"May I please keep my knickers, Sir..."
 "No, you must feel the shame of being punished on your bare bottom like a school girl. Hands above your head.”

A little voice between my ears echoed.

'You have signed the form; you have agreed to be subjected to corporal punishment. If you back out it will be the end of Eilean Beithe Academy. You know how you will never be able to graduate without help from EB. You will be a secretary all your life!"

“Hands above your head.”
I took off my knickers with my ears tickling for a shameful blush, and with my hands above my head I was quite self conscious of exposing my curls and my bare bottom. I did feel as a school girl about to be punished, it was so embarrassing.
 He took an alligator like belt out of a cupboard and whipped my bottom. I was so surprised by the stripe of fire burning across my bum I dropped my hands to rub my bottom while dancing on the spot.

“Again, hands above your head."

He whipped the back of my thighs and that was far stingier. I again dropped my hands and rubbed my thighs.

“Each time you drop your hands I will whip your thighs, now raise them again and we will start over. You are to receive twelve strokes for your failed A-levels plus two for unladylike language.”

I twice dropped my hands and each times I got my thighs smacked.

"How does that compares with your parents' spankings?"

I was still dancing on the spot and rubbing my throbbing bottom and thighs, as I answered, "Sniff, sniff... It doesn't compare.. Sir. Sniff... I will do my best, Sir!"

"I am sure you will, or your bottom will be burning a lot more than today!"

I barely avoided another one of my 'Huh!'. I was saved by my smarting bum.

As I was slowly pulling up my knickers over my blazing thighs, he took my woolly stay-ups, and skirt. He gave me a pair of grey knee-high socks like those worn by junior schoolgirls, plus a miniskirt in a green tartan.
"This is the Eilean Beithe skirt, and you better tie your hair in bunches..."
That skirt sure was a mini. I was again a naughty six former teasing the boys with a shortish skit. I understood that tying my hair in bunches will make me look as young as one.
 He dropped my stay-ups and my skirt into a large envelope. "I will mail them back to you."

I felt quite self conscious of my bare stingy thighs, and already knew that worse would follow; taking the tube back home with that short skirt and little girl socks.

"You will take the brochure home. You will sleep on it for a week. If you decide to be an Eilean Beithe girl you will be at Glasgow's airport next Saturday at noon, and you will be wearing that Eilean Beithe skirt.

Jennifer

To be continued...

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