To read more of ‘B’s’ wonderful work, click on ‘links and contributors’ above. Then click on ‘contributors’ and scroll down to her section. You will also find a link to her blog, where she writes stories, posts lots of photos and art. An excellent site.

She also runs a spanking game. Very well run, and detailed. Lots of spankings! Many acted out real time, in a chat room.

Click below…

Marie and Jean met Lucy and George part 3/10

Next morning, the boys had left for work when Lucy visited. She was dressed with a very short tartan kilted skirt and immediately teased me.

“Did you get the spanking that you deserve?!” I couldn’t help a deep blush, and she laughed as she skipped around me trying to raise my new kilt. She eventually caught a glance and teased the more. “That’s barely a tickle!”

We had a cup of coffee, and she asked if I would like to come to school with her. I rose both eyebrows and she explained. “The old village school has been reopened by a retired school mistress named Miss Fritton. She helps young ladies our age to prepare for various exams, and I am going to retake my A Levels.”

“Well… I don’t know… Jean did tell me that I should improve my English, and I was thinking of private lessons.”

She cut me short. “It will be more fun at our little school; we’ll be school chums!”

“Ah… huh… ok.”

She again danced around me and teased. “First you have to wear your skirt as short as an English schoolgirl!”

She had me kneel on the floor with her and told me to roll up my kilt. I protested. “It’s too short!”

She ignore me and had me roll it up further.

“OH! NO! I might show my knickers!”

She eventually had me roll it up as short as her.

I again protested. “I might show that I was spanked!”

She laughed. “For a £25 fine, it wasn’t much of a spanking!”

I pouted.

Back up on our feet she whistled as a boy. “There you are, a real English schoolgirl, actually Scottish with that tartan skirt.”

I blushed as I was quite self-conscious of my thighs being well exposed by such a short miniskirt. I also remembered the schoolgirls I had seen on our first day.

Next, we rode our bikes to the old village school. I was very careful to keep my skirt down, but Lucy didn’t bother.

I discovered a picture-perfect country school with flower pots decorating the large windows of the single classroom. I noticed the repainted bike-shed with half a dozen bicycles, and the paved schoolyard opening onto a small manicured lawn.

Next, I was sharing an antique wood and cast-iron set of desk and attached seat with Lucy. I stood as everyone when an ageless stern lady entered. We sat as she sat behind her desk standing on a platform.

“Lucy, please introduce your friend.”

“Her name is Marie and she is French. Her hubby who works with mine wants her to improve her English.”

“Very well, sit down. Marie please stand.”

I did and couldn’t help tugging down my miniskirt, although I had noticed that most of my new classmates, all them my age, were similarly mini-skirted.

“Please tell us your level of schooling.”

“Well, I have the baccalaureate.”

“With Honours?”

“Hum… not exactly… I had to take the remedial oral.”

“Were you punished for such a poor achievement?”

I was taken aback by such a question and shamefully blushed, and pitifully stammered. “Huh… n… no… nope… my parents were only relieved that I did have it.”

“Let me guess, you weren’t exactly a star pupil?”

I blushed the more and imagined that my cheeks were crimson as I nodded.

“Very well, while with us, I will require that your husband severely punishes you for your poor grades…” She paused for a couple of seconds before adding. “If he doesn’t follow my instructions to the letter, you will be expelled.”

I was mouth opened and red face when she told me to sit down.

She gave us a class about English literature and issued me a log book. Then we had a break. All the girls teasingly gathered around Lucy and me. One of them chimed. “We are taking bets, and its 4 against 3 that you will chicken out!”

Another one added. “French girls are such softies!”

I fumed, and felt challenged to stick around. The second lesson was dictation. It was a difficult text and I struggled with the past tense. Lucinda was told to pick up our work and she took mine with a teasing grin. Miss Fritton took her time to correct our work. Amelia the girl who had mentioned that French girls are softies returned mine with a triumphant smile.

I soon understood why, Miss Fritton had written in red,

“Taking into consideration Marie’s level of English grammar I gave her a credit of two points. She nonetheless didn’t reach the minimum average grade of 10/20 with only 9/20. Therefore, I am advocating a severe spanking of no less than 30 smacks with a wooden hairbrush. She needs to learn to better apply herself.”

I somberly rode back home while Lucy encouraged me not to give up, and that she would be missing me. I told her not to worry. “I am not a softy!”

B and Asa
To be continued…