Eilean Beithe part 3

Having returned to our castle we were gathered in our classrooms and given name tags to hand sew onto our knickers, brassieres, blouses, kilts, blazers and cardigans. A few had to be taught how to sew. That took us till dinner. We had a great meal with fish Florentine and rice. We cleared our plates, and watched a program on the big screen telly. Then we were asked to debate, "Jennifer tell us what you thought..."

I stood, "Huh... It was..."

I was immediately interrupted, "Jennifer you were told twice before that "Huh..." is unladylike language. I was grabbed by one of my bunches and pulled over a pair of trousered knees, my kilt was raised and my knickers pulled down while one knee was pushed between my legs and my arms caught in a firm grip. I felt well exposed and blushed accordingly...

I was severely spanked with some old leather slipper. I had never imagined that a spanking could be so stingy. I was told to pull up my knickers and again asked for my opinion. I stood sniffling with both hands up under my kilt rubbing my blazing bum. "Sniff... sorry... sniff... Sir... I meant to... sniff...say..."

Later, in bed I heard Sally through the curtains, "While being spanked you've showed everything you have, we now know that you are a real red hair !" I laughed, "We'll know soon enough if you're a real blonde !"

Sunday with full uniform and self conscious of our short skirts we marched through the village to attend mass at the old stone church.  Old timers at the pub feasted their eyes...

Next we were allowed to dress as we wished, as long as we wore skirts at least three inches above our knees. We discovered a local farm called the country club with a tennis court, horses, and were offered to share the Sunday roast.

Monday morning we were awaken by a bell and the none too melodious voice of Miss P.E. "Gym kit and in front of the castle in five minutes..." After a pause she added, "I will spank the last one..." We scrambled ! We didn't have time to think of what those small shorts covered or didn't cover. 

Sally was the last one. Miss P.E. grabbed her under her arm as if she was as light as a feather. She pealed her shorts and knickers down and soundly spanked her bottom and thighs. With her feet off the ground she pedaled. A few minutes later as we jogged alongside the loch, I teased her back, "We now know what you are a real blonde !"

After showers and having donned our uniforms we were inspected. "Juniata ! Please adjust your tie..." She did, but it didn't hold. Miss Inspector investigated. "You haven't closed the top button of you blouse !" She grabbed her pigtail, pulled her down over a chair with her kilt up and her knickers down. Her spanking echoed throughout the castle. Someone whispered, "A real brunette !"

Our first lesson followed a superb breakfast buffet. It was English grammar with the teach who had spanked me yesterday evening for my unladylike "Huh..." He told us to seat and announced, "Take a dictation, less 4 points per major mistakes and less 2 for minor ones. A grade below 12/20 means a classic spanking, under 10 and you will taste Mr Wacker. He smacked my desk with a leather paddle. It made a loud cracking sound, I almost jumped out of my knickers.

Sally corrected my work and I corrected hers. Susan collected our papers. Mister English Grammar checked them. Then he stepped down from his teacher's stage and grabbed one of my bunches. I was to be the first dictation victim ! He dragged me up on the stage. I grimaced and hobbled as I followed my hair. He let go when I was draped over a stool. "9/20! I am going to teach you a lesson !" He pulled my kilt up and dragged my knickers down before severely roasting my derriere and thighs with Mr Wacker,

"OH! AH! AIE! OUCH!"

"Take your kilt and knickers off and correct your errors on the blackboard...."

Next he grabbed Marianne by an ear... Half the class was spanked. Then he went over each of our mistakes. He was for most of us the first teacher to take the time to do so. It was also a first to be standing skirt less with bare fiery bottoms and thighs on display while writing grammatical rules on the blackboard. We knew that we would remember them forever ! The bell chimed and we were allowed to dress. That spanking with Mr Wacker showed for the whole day !

It was math after the break. I was very lucky not to be again spanked. Some weren't so lucky. Deborah aka Debby had a second helping of Mr Wacker. Her thighs were glowing when it was time for lunch. It was again a great buffet, and we were taught how to peel an apple with a fork and a knife as proper young ladies.

Miss P.E. announced, "A lady should know how to ride, every Monday afternoon we will teach you how to ride at the farm country club..." She also added, "Every afternoon you will have a sporty activity except Wednesday when you will be writing an essay.

Tuesday is swimming, Thursday is karate, Friday will be a team sport, Saturday and Sunday you choose the activity you want to repeat."

She sternly added, "Saturday is also about redoing the lessons you failed. In detention you will redo the prep and take a quiz till you reach the minimum grade of 12/20..."

Then it was our riding lesson at the country club. It was a short walk on the other side of the village. I always wanted to learn how to ride. We were issued jodhpurs, boots, hats and etc. For all our activities at the country club we had a reserved private changing room with lockers and showers.

I was afraid of feeding the bit to my horse and I had to be helped, but I did manage to saddle her on my own. Our riding coach was dishy and called me "a natural". We returned around 5 PM, and were back in our classrooms for supervised homework till dinner...

Jennifer

To be continued...

You are invited to play with us !

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Detention...

 

 

 

PS : You are invited to play with us !

We have a new website !
https://oaks-and-pines.com/

You will find an Application Form in the "pages" of this blog
 Complete that form and send it to oaksandpines@hotmail.com

(Adults only)

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And don't forget our friend Devlin O'Neill who posted today our story "Asking the neighbors part 2"

 

Eilean Beithe Academy part 2

A week later at the Glasgow airport I looked back on the past week while having a snack...

After the interview, on the way home on the tube I had pulled on my miniskirt to hide the belt marks decorating my thighs, but it was quite futile with my still reddened left cheek. It was obvious for everyone that I was a well punished schoolgirl, and I was blushing as I felt like one. I overheard two old biddies, "At that age there's nothing better than a good skelping to keep them on the straight and narrow..." I blushed the more.

Over the weekend I did plenty of thinking, "They have great professors explaining every lessons till you have understood them... and the belt will make sure that you apply yourself... and you did deserve that belting for your failed A-levels... and... and..."

zzzzzzz... zzzzzzz... I dreamed... I was told to take my skirt off, and with my knickers feeling very tight I eyed the tawse on the desk. The coach was called out. While waiting I burned with curiosity. I eventually couldn't resist, I ran that tawse between my fingers... I hadn't heard the coach coming back, but I sure heard her booming voice ordering, "Take off your knickers, you are going to be feeling that tawse across your bare bottom !"

On Monday the face of the matron of the secretarial pool was priceless. I had arrived at 10 AM wearing jeans and told her that I would be coming back to buy the firm !

I moved my things out of the apartment, my favorite aunt had offered a room. I didn't have a boyfriend to call, I had dropped him a month ago. He was a wimp.

At the Starbucks of the Glasgow airport my cellphone blooped, it was a texto telling me to find the Eilean Beithe coach in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn across the street. I pulled my suitcase on wheels and found a white bus with two dozen girls my age wearing miniskirts. They were smiling, I smiled back. I already felt a camaraderie...

The chauffeur had a listing and called out each of us. He carefully identified us with picture ID attached to his paperwork. As we drove off we figured out the younger girls preparing to retake their A-levels, and the older ones who would be working on various university entrance exams. We joked, "Juniors and seniors !"

The girl next to me on the bus chirped, "You're a junior ?"

"Yep, and my name's Jenny for Jennifer, and you are ?"

"I am Sally, also a junior and signing up for two years..."

I answered, "Samo!" with my old schoolgirl slang. 

We both laughed !

Two hours later we discovered a smallish remote village with very few shops, a church, and a tavern. It sure wasn't a tourist spot. After a twist of the main street we saw a superb Scottish castle on a small island. It was linked to the main land by a narrow causeway which was closed by a chain bearing a sign reading "Private !"

We were gathered in the largest room of the castle which was also the dinning hall with long old wooden tables and antic wood paneling. We immediately noticed a crest with a cane, a tawse and a small birch...

Someone whispered, "Eilean Beithe means birch island..."

"Welcome to the Eilean Beithe Academy young ladies, "I am the Principal, my name is Mr McTavish..." He introduced our professors and the staff before taking us on a tour, "Over there you have the gym with its equipment." We were next showed two old fashion classrooms, "One for juniors preparing A-levels and one for seniors preparing university entrance exams." We giggled, we had already figured the juniors and seniors. Each classroom had the same crest...

Then it was the dorms, "Juniors are 4 to a dorm, seniors are 2 to a room. You may pull the light proof curtains between your beds for privacy. Your names are on the doors. You are to now change into your uniforms, and you will be inspected in the gym in fifteen minutes..."

Sally pulled her a blue tartan mini kilt out of the bag on her bed, and held it at arms' length. "Whoa! Its short !" Juniata pulled a pair of white knickers and chimed on, "I can't remember when I last wore white knickers !" Amanda added, "And no boys around to tease..."

None of us were late for the uniform inspection. The seniors wore red mini kilts. A very fit lady introduced herself as our P.E. Mistress. "First thing first all those with long hair are to braid them or tie them into pigtails or bunches..." As she inspected each of us she gave out blue scrunchies for juniors and red ones for seniors. We brightly blushed when she lifted our kilts to make sure we were wearing the regulation knickers. 

"Get your vaccination cards, we are going to have you medically inspected by the village doctor..." Two minutes later she ordered, "Line up by two, juniors first, seniors behind, and follow me..." She also very sternly added, "No funny business ! I won't hesitate to spank any of you in the middle of main street !" That sure got our attention. We marched down the causeway, pulled our kilts down as we stepped over the chain. We were all very self conscious of the amount of leg we were showing…

The few old timers of the tavern enjoyed our parade while most villagers were blasé. At the medical office a nurse took us four at a time and ordered, "Strip! Don't make me repeat myself or I'll call your mistress..."

We obeyed ! She measured and weighted us, and completed a card for each of us. Then, carrying that card and our clothes we were showed into the doctor's office. He was male, and we were naked ! While three of us sat on cold metal chairs he took the blood pressure of the fourth one, and thoroughly examined her.

Jennifer

To be continued...

You are invited to play with us !

 We have a new website !
https://oaks-and-pines.com/

You will find an Application Form in the pages of this blog
 Complete that form and send it to oaksandpines@hotmail.com

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After the game (new pics)

 

You are invited to play with us !

 We have a new website !
https://oaks-and-pines.com/

You will find an Application Form in the pages of this blog
 Complete that form and send it to oaksandpines@hotmail.com

Please click the above pic...
 

Eilean Beithe Academy part 1

It was a small add in the miscellaneous classifieds of a psychology magazine I picked up at the hairdresser. It read : "You are a young lady struggling with having to retake your A-levels or you are preparing the entrance exam to a prestigious university. Eilean Beithe Academy will help you with time proven methods..."

Stuck in a secretarial job. 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 Eilean Beithe.

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 the Eilean Beithe Academy. If they could guarantee my A-levels... I can't 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. "Don't forget to wear a pleated skirt no more than 16 inches in length..."

"Yes Ma'am, I will..."

That Saturday morning I was too shy to go bare thighs with such a miniskirt, I added black woolly stay-ups. 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, come in..." I walked through a deserted front office which wasn't surprising on a Saturday. I noticed the modern furniture and a tall gentleman stood by the door of a large office. "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.

"Eilean Beithe castle..."

"Its superb !"

I was again invited to sit in front of large glass table with aluminium 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 year to prepare 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 honors..."

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

"If you fail your A-levels we will refund you..."

"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 education....

Very carefully selected professors and coaches...

Classes limited to a dozen pupils...

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

Supervised homework by a dedicated professor...

"Very interesting !"

He sternly chimed, "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 for each years. Again we will refund you if you fail to graduate. We never had to refund any of our girls..."

"When you failed your A-levels did your father or mother punished you and how ?"

I blushed as I answered, "Father belted me, Sir..."

"Excellent ! 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...

"Stand, take off your jacket, skirt, 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 had just now signed the corporal punishment consent form. I can't back out ! If I back out it will be the end of Eilean Beithe. I'll never be able to graduate without help from EB. I'll be a secretary forever. I blushed to my ears when I took off my knickers off and demurely kept my hands in front of my curls.

While taking off his belt he ordered, "Hands behind your head."

I obeyed feeling quite vulnerable to be so bare, and he whipped my bottom and thighs, front and back... I danced as I tried to avoid that fiery belt, but I kept my hands on my head... "OH! AH! AIE! OUCH!"

"Plus four for unladylike language..."

"How does that compare with your father's belting ?"

I was still dancing on the spot as I answered, "Sniff... It doesn't compare Sir. Sniff... If was far more severe. Sniff..."

"Mind you, we also have a tawse and a cane... but our punishments are meant to be more stingy than bruising..."

I nodded, that was somehow reassuring... I was desperate for a rub, but I was afraid of further punishment...

"If need be we want to be able to repeat the punishment as soon as required..."

I barely avoided another one of my 'Huh!'. I was saved by my throbbing bottom and thighs...

As I was slowly pulling up my knickers over my blazing thighs. He took my stay-ups and gave me a pair of white knee high socks as those worn by juniors. 

He kept my stay-ups, "I will mail them back to you..."

As the brochure had said I felt quite self conscious of my bare thighs, and worse was to follow as I had to take the tube back home...

"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..."

Jennifer

To be continued....

You are invited to play with us !

 We have a new website !
https://oaks-and-pines.com/

You will find an Application Form in the pages of this blog
 Complete that form and send it to oaksandpines@hotmail.com

(Adults only)

  

Please click the above pic...

A tribute to Glenmore

Glenmore, our friend, had made those drawings for us...

I am so sad that he stopped blogging :(

PS : You are invited to play with us !

We have a new website !
https://oaks-and-pines.com/

You will find an Application Form in the "pages" of this blog
 Complete that form and send it to oaksandpines@hotmail.com

(Adults only)

Please click the above pic..

And don't forget our friend Devlin O'Neill who posted today our story "Asking the neighbors part 1"

 

A spanking confessional

I am Sophie, 18 years and from Paris, with my friend Denise also 18, we stepped off the Eurostar at Waterloo early Saturday morning. It isn't our first visit to the UK. We have been on a few teenage exchange programs to improve our English. We are travelling light with overnight backpacks, and have dressed with jeans miniskirts to conquer Albion's capital!

 From Waterloo we took the Tube to our hotel in Soho, and were surprised by the number of girls wearing miniskirts. Denis giggled, "London invented the mini !" From Piccadilly we entered the heart of Soho with Old Compton street. We weren't too surprised to discover shops with black curtains. It is the neighborhood we weren't allowed to visit as teenagers.

The hotel is an old Victorian mansion transformed into an hotel with big rooms and attached bathrooms with claw-foot bathtubs. After having left our backpacks in our room we had a spicy snack of chicken and rice curry at a street side stall, Denise philosophized, "In France its couscous, and in the UK its curry..."

We explored a fashion shop, and were quite surprised. The window was quite tame, once inside it was another story. We discovered maid outfits and adult school uniforms for 'boys' and 'girls'.

We further explored and froze in front of short red tartan kilts. They reminded us of our last summer camp in the Lake District. Louise one of the English girls wearing a similar skirt was caned. We were quite jealous of that brazen girl who became the leader of the gang after her caning. As French girls we weren't spanked, therefore we had to be content to be mere followers. We now feel that we would have had more fun if we had been treated like our British chums.

As I felt the woolly fabric of those kilts I mused, "I am still wondering how it would have felt to be caned as Louise..."

Denis decided that we should buy those kilts. I laughed, "We'll sorta feel like Louise !" We also picked up pairs of white schoolgirl knickers and immediately changed. "Whoa! Its very short !" I tried to tug my skirt down and blushed as Denise teased me, "Ce sera pas le première fois que tu montres ta culotte !"

I was still blushing as we entered the Janus bookshop. We weren't too interested in the glossy magazines, nor the pricey old French novels with ink drawings. The back room with the videos was ignored. We stopped a few seconds by a display of canes and discreetly fingered them. Denise teasingly whispered, "Imagine it applied to your bare butt..." I giggled and spotted a pile of flyers,

 "Spanking Confessional

Have you been a naughty girl ?

 Will you have the courage to own up ?"

There was an address down the street. Once outside we sat at the terrace of a pub and ordered tall beers. We were both curious of that Spanking Confessional but we were shy to mention it to the other one. 

At the next table two girls our age were laughing and repeatedly pulling on their skirts in vain attempts to cover the wide red marks decorating the front of their thighs. They had obviously received a belting.

We had both noticed those two punished girls, and it was the trigger. We winked in unison, and Denise challenged, "If you're game I am as well !" I answered with high five.

Five minutes later we were in front of the Spanking Confessional which was a Victorian row-house. "I have butterflies in my tummy !" Denise shrugged and pushed the intercom. A male voice answered, "Please come in, the door is open, and wait in the lounge on your right..."

The decor was classy with wood paneling, antic furniture and Indian rugs. In the middle of a coffee table by the empty fireplace was a small wicker basket with a card reading, "For donations - No less than £20 per visitor !" While we waited we saw a girl about our age on her way out. With both hands she was rubbing her short skirt over her derriere. Her mini rode up and revealed reddened thighs.

A tall gentleman in his fifties followed and admonished her, "Next time I won't be so lenient !" He was wearing an opened black academic gown over a grey tweed suit. We stood up when he turned towards us and questioned with a severe voice, "What is it this time ?"

For a second we were taken aback, but we soon understood his act and Denise caught up. "The mice in the kitchen... It was us." I remembered that prank at summer camp. The English girls knowing that we wouldn't be spanked had convinced us to do the deed...

"I am the new Headmaster and the cook told me of that silliness." He must have picked up Denise's accent and added, "French girls are no longer exempt from punishment !"

He sat on a nearby chair and pulled Denise by an ear till she had no choice but to come across his knees. Her miniskirt was swiftly raised and her knickers lowered. She barely had time to say, "OH!" He gave her quite and spanking and also smacked her thighs. She pedaled and scissored her legs. I saw everything she has. Then he helped her up, "Keep your skirt up and watch your friend get her well deserved spanking !"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me over his knees, yanked my mini kilt up and my knickers came down. I hastily closed my legs. He spanked my bottom and thighs till I shamelessly pedaled as much as Denise ! "Go stand next to your accomplice, and keep your skirt up !"

It wasn't our first spanking, our mothers had spanked us quite a few times. We gathered that it was only an appetizer when we saw him picking up a tawse from behind the door. He announced with an interrogative tone as if asking us to agree. "Next should be a well deserved Scottish belting..." Denise agreed for both of us with a silly contrite voice, "We are very sorry Sir..." 

Then he sternly ordered, "Take off your knickers and drop them on the coffee table by the fire place."

We exchanged, 'I dare you winks', and obeyed.

"In time honored British schoolgirl fashion, bend down and grab your ankles." 

We again obeyed with more daring you winks.

He smacked our derrieres alternating for one to the other. I was the first to let off my ankles and he belted my thighs. "Each time you are letting go of your ankles I will belt your thighs !" I hurriedly again grabbed my ankles.

We both chanted, "OH! AH! OUCH!" as we both had again let go of our ankles...

Our bottoms and thighs were throbbing, but we had been belted at home by our fathers. We were still curious of the famous English school cane. We almost smiled when Mister Headmaster said, "You also deserve to be caned ?!" He remained silent for a few seconds and he added, "You will know how English girls are punished !" He was obviously waiting for our consent. We looked at each other, and nodded.

From the umbrella stand her took a cane similar to those we had seen at Janus. I watched with wide eyes as he flexed and swished it through the air. The hissing sound had me shuddering. I had second thoughts, but I wouldn't be the one chickening out ! 

"Bend down over each arms of the settee... Six of the best... If you rub the stroke will be repeated..." We again heard that cane hissing. I shivered, my bottom felt so embarrassingly bare.

Denise squealed ! The next one was for me, and my derriere felt as if it was horizontally sliced. "ARGH! OUCH!"

 After my fourth searing stroke my hands flew to rub my burning bum. I heard him again counting, "Four!" as he repeated my fourth stroke. "ARGHH! OUCH!"

I thought of giving up, but I heard him repeat, "Five!" I understood that Denise had rubbed after her fifth stroke. I was not going to be further under done.

I took my remaining two strokes,

"OH! ARGHHH! OUCH!" I felt my eyes watering...

I had received seven strokes my bottom was on fire, and my thighs were still throbbing from the tawse,

"Keep your skirts up and stand in the corner..." I rubbed on the way to the corner. He grabbed my wrist, had me twirling on the spot and slapped my thighs. "No rubbing !"

 Denise must have similarly rubbed as I heard her squealing. "Aie! AIE!"

Ten minutes later we are out on the street rubbing our bottoms and thighs as discreetly as possible. A few giggling boys had us realizing that our kilts were too short to hide our tawse decorated thighs. We blushed as red as tomatoes, and ran back to the pub.

The two girls of earlier were still there. They of course immediately noticed that we were punished. They called the waiter, "Two tall beers with shots, on us !" They asked, "Strap or cane ?"

"La fessée, la tawse et la cane ! Oops ! Sorry, I meant spanked, tawsed and caned." Having said that I felt myself blushing to my ears as a punished schoolgirl...

"French ?"

We nodded.

"Stings !?"

"Oh la la! my bottom and thighs a on fire !"

Denis explained, "We wanted to know whats its like to be punished as British girls."

I painfully squirmed in my chair as I summed up, "Aie! Aie! It was very severe !"

Denise was curious, "What about you ?"

"We were given punishment slips..."

"We were lucky, the cane wasn't requested..."

Sophie and Denise

 PS : You are invited to play with us !

We have a new website !
https://oaks-and-pines.com/

You will find an Application Form in the "pages" of this blog
 Complete that form and send it to oaksandpines@hotmail.com

(Adults only)

Please click the above pic...
 

Please click the above pic...