Sunday, August 13, 2023

American Lafayette girl visiting France part 4

 At our dance lesson, while changing into our leotards Blandine noticed our decorated thighs, and she teased Mary-Anne with good humor. "Whoa! La fessée au martinet, you are having a real French education !" Then we had a great lesson. The sight of our still reddened bums reflected by the tall mirrors was inspiring. We did our best, and Miss Russian-Spy didn't give us another switching. Phew!

Back home for dinner, we didn't break any plates, we were very well behaved. Maman for me, and Aunty Berenice for Mary-Anne mused, "Nothing works better with girls than red legs with a miniskirt..."

Two days later our bottoms and thighs had mostly recovered their peachy color, and our boyfriends were almost disappointed. We returned to the grassy riverbank where they had attempted to explore our thighs while they were decorated.

With more sweet talk and breath taking kisses they were again exploring. First one hand caressing our knees and the other one tickling our titties through our tempting front closing bras. Then as we returned their kisses they teased, "There's a big spider climbing up your thighs..." I giggled, "Oh! Whoa! Its a gigantic one !" We felt our skirts riding up, we didn't frenetically pulled them down. The spiders pulled the elastic legs of our knickers and continued to explore with soft caresses sending electric waves through our bodies. We also felt another adventurous spider liberating our boobies...

When we recovered our breath we had lost our knickers, the boys pocketed their first trophies. We asked to have them back, but their tongues danced in our mouths, and we realized that they would show them to their friends. The thought of their friends knowing that they removed our knickers, and kept them was exciting. They hadn't claimed more, they were gentlemen. It was our first big adventure. We closed our bras and blouses with rosy cheeks. We felt quite daring to be bare under our minis...

A few minutes later while our bare bottoms discovered the leather seats of my small Renault SUV. At the other end of the parking lot, and out of sight for us, a red Alfa Romeo Spider skidded to a stop and a blond furry jumped out. She marched onto our boyfriends, "Give them back ! Now!" They were quite surprised. "We haven't taken anything from you !" She returned to her car and came back armed with a golf club. "I took pictures, public indecency ! Give me back my girls' knickers !" They gave them back.

On the way back home we were overtaken by a red comet, and we weren't bothered. When we dropped our satchels on the dining room table, Maman came out of the kitchen and sternly ordered, "Lift your skirts, both of you !" We demurely lifted them a few inches. She took two steps and yanked them up till revealing our tufts.

"Where are your knickers ?" We of course couldn't answer, and blushed as red as tomatoes. She pulled them out of her handbag. We immediately said that we hadn't done *it* !" She fired back, "What you did or didn't do at your age isn't anyone's concern, but public indecency is ! Take your skirts off !" We understood that our carrots were cooked, over cooked, and that she would be roasting our already well bared butts.

She opened a folded newspaper. We discovered the implement of our chastisement, dozens of hastily cleaned green switches, some of them still had a few small leaves, "I'll show you how indecent girls were punished in my days, side by side with hands on the sofa."

She took a hand full, and it was a fast whipping. Those switches were light and they broke, she took another handful and continued to whip our bums and thighs. She didn't count the strokes, she was a furious mother whipping her naughty daughters. We danced and sang, "Aie! Aie! Aie! Aie!"

Later we were standing in the corners of the dining room. We were thankful that she hadn't told us to keep our hands on top of our heads. We were rubbing our still incandescent butts and thighs when Papa came back from work. He raised both eyebrows at the sight. She told him, "I spotted them bare bottom with their boyfriends on the riverbank by the University. Public indecency, they could have been arrested. They gave their knickers to them boys, I got them back..."

He noticed the broken twigs, "An old fashioned switching... brings back memories..." Maman blushed... She announced, "I am sending the pics to the boys' parents, they deserve the cane..." Then Papa blushed..."

He also queried, "Are you telling Mary-Anne's parents ?"

"Nope, she said the she hasn't done *it* and I trust her. Therefore its only another naughtiness for which she was well chastised."

We were allowed to wear wide PJ shorts for dinner...

Mary-Anne and Marie-Jeanne

Co-written with Jayent

To be continued...

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Saturday, August 12, 2023

With an audience



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Furthermore our friend Asa from
  Spanking Emporium 
 
Asa Jones is a story writer, photographer and painter, in one word he is quite an artist !
Please click the above pic to visit the Spanking Emporium and buy one of his book!

 

Friday, August 11, 2023

Corner time, before and after...


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Thursday, August 10, 2023

Lesson learned

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Sunday, August 6, 2023

American Lafayette girl visiting France part 3

A week later we registered at the Clermont-Ferrand University.


One of our first classes was history and the professor was the epitome of those French leftist teachers. He had said before I went for a year to the US that La Fayette was a traitor to his people and the revolution for having defended a constitutional monarchy.

We were soon to discover another nasty facet, "It is rumored that the GI said "Lafayette nous voila !" when they landed in Normandy..."
"Mademoiselle American Lafayette please stand, have your ancestors liberated us from the Nazis to thank us for La Fayette's help with your independence war?"

Mary-Anne stood, "My name is Laforge-Lafayette from Lafayette, Louisiana , US of A, I am indeed an 'American Lafayette', but that isn't my name. We liberated France as a gateway to Berlin to take down the Nazi regime..."

"Yes, and on the way American bombings have killed hundred of thousands of civilians because they bombed from high altitude to lessen the risks to American pilots. That wasn't too courageous..."

Mary-Anne jumped on her feet, "You are implying that our pilots were cowards!" She also legged it down the classroom till slapping him. She would have slapped him left and right if he hadn't caught her wrist. "Lack of nerves, arrogance, and one sided, very American !"

It was unfair, he had provoked her, and he was painfully twisting her wrist. I charged him with swinging my satchel, his glasses flew and I bloodied his nose. He let go or her, and followed us calling blue murder as we left the classroom.

We were lead to the Dean's office by a supervisor, and Mister Commie followed. We gave our side of the incident, and he gave his. The Dean was no idiot, and told us that we should have fought him on his ground, "...with reasoning!" We both got a pink slip.

We returned home fuming and gave our pink slips to Papa. He was furious! He agreed with the Dean about fighting him on his ground. He told us to wait while he called the university. We heard it all,

"I want that idiot out!"
"Otherwise I will file a suit with the ministry in Paris, the French American Lafayette committee, our député, our sénateur and the press and etc!
"No! I won't wait! I want him out by tomorrow, or I will raise a storm you can't imagine!"

He slammed the telephone down and turned to us, "Although justified you shouldn't have turned to violence. Unladylike behavior! I am going to teach you a lesson. Take off your skirts and knickers. Be thankful that I am sparing you the cane. Marie-Jeanne please bring the martinet."

"Hands on your head !"

With our bushy tufts exposed it was hard to say who was blushing the most. Suddenly the dance started, Papa, aka Uncle George, alternated between the two of us. It was mostly our bums who were concerned by the chastening martinet, but at time we rubbed. Then our thighs were whipped back and front. We hopped, skipped, wriggled, and dodged but there was no way to avoid the punishing martinet. He didn't count the strokes, and we were too busy dancing to count them. Stroke after punishing stroke. We gritted our teeth but it was to no avail.

 Mary-Anne wailed, “Oooowwwwwwwooowwwww!” I could feel where the leather laid on top of one welt after another. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. Another stroke from that infernal martinet. “Oh please, please, no more, I’ll never do it again!" echoed off the wood paneling of the room.

As suddenly as the retribution started it ended, and left us standing there, tears streaming from our eyes, and a prime example of humility. We were eventually told to stand in the corner with our hands on our head, our bottom and thighs were throbbing, ouch!

Next morning we pulled our minis as far down as they would go. Maman, aka Aunty Berenice, teased, "I guess I don't have to make sure that you haven't rolled them up !" We weren't humored. We had to wear skirts as we would be going straight from the university to our dance lesson, and Miss Russian-spy has always said that girls should wear skirts...

At the uni we were welcomed with wide grins from our classmates for having stood up to that teach. For the martinet welts decorating our thighs they teasingly sang, "Martinet aie! aie! aie!" It wasn't mean and we didn't mind.

Edouard my boyfriend had itchy palms and wanted to explore my decorated thighs under my skirt. "Doudou please, I don't want another pink slip and a belt smacking."

Mary-Anne teased Jean-Pierre, her French boyfriend, "These marks are so sore and tender, and they give off a heat you could feel on your sweaty little hands.”

Then Mary-Anne threw her head back and giggled as both of us left the boys standing there in the hallway....

 Mary-Anne and Marie-Jeanne

Co-written with Jayent

To be continued... 

 

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