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...

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After the game (new pics)

 

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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....

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A tribute to Glenmore

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

I am so sad that he stopped blogging :(

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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

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Miss Paddle...

 

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Echo part 7 - The Epilogue

Over the next couple of years we saw the following Bridget movies without skipping med school. Marjory and I always had fun teasing Meghan, "Remember how you got us caned with the premiere of the first movie ?!"

"I didn't pull the two of you by the hair !"

We laughed ! 

"And I got quite a belting !"

"It isn't the same as the cane !"

"You didn't have to dance and draw the press on us !"

"You've danced as much as us !"

'You didn't have to wear those camel toe jeans !"

"Your jeans were as sexy !"

We again laughed !

Its one of our best memories although the aftermath was quite stingy, to say the least ! We still have the autographed posters. We always have fun teasing each others with that memory...

Another year had passed

It was our graduation day. We are wearing black robes with MD hoods and mortar boards. We are all graduating with honors. I am teasing them with having more honors. They echo with, "You got a stingier bum !" We always conclude our teasing parties with calling each other, "Camel toe !"

Ma'am and our parents came for our graduation. The parents of Meghan and Marjorie made no secret of their disciplinary methods.

"To give her some backbone !"

Pop and Mom were quite surprised.

Ma'am told them, "I did have to cane her a few times, and it did her a world of good !"

I had to add, "I never got a punishment I didn't deserve..."

Natalie and her mother were almost late. She is now in her 3rd year of med school. She was discreetly rubbing her bum and her mother didn't spare her, "I had to deal with a D..." Nat suitably blushed, but one could also see her determination. In fact we all have that look of determination.

Another young woman with her eyes set on the horizon joined us. She hugged Ma'am. We had all briefly met her daughter before. She is a role model for us. She radiates with the power of those who were brought up to lead.

She turned to me, "I am opening a private clinic, and I want you !"

"Count me in !"

The last one to join us was "Mister Hairy Chest" my beau. He was wearing the uniform of the Royal Navy with three gold stripes on his sleeves.

I always blush when I remember how we met.

Pimple-Face had finally succeeded to raise my skirt after I had walked down Ma'am's stairs with red eyes. I had received her famous six of the best, and she had allowed me not to wear my knickers. Pimple-Face made me blush the more as he triumphed, with a resounding, "WHOA!" but in the next second he squealed with a loud, "OUCH!"

Mister Hairy Chest had kicked his butt. "You don't raise a young lady's skirt without her permission !"

Pimple-Face scampered. I had no doubt that Mister Apollo had an eyeful. I was blushing as a peony. He had a conquering smile. He handed me a superb white handkerchief, and with a warm "May I ?" he offered to take my satchel.

I gave it to him and took the hankie, and dabbed my eyes. Then he said, "Would you have a glass of bubbly ?"

"In the middle of the afternoon !"

"Why not !"

"Only one ! I have homework..."

He gave me a mischievous wink. 

He had a leather sofa which felt cool for my throbbing bum.

I accepted a second glass and he moved to sit next to me. I would never be able to explain if it was the champagne, or my lack of knickers, or my fiery bottom having ignited something else, but he soon gave me a breathtaking kiss with one hand under my skirt... In the morning he again rubbed my derriere with sunburn cream. That was the only cream he had !

After the graduation I gave my mortar hat to Ma'am so that she keeps it on her commode next to the one of her daughter. Then I hugged her, "Thanks Ma'am."

Cecilia.

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