Victoriana ~ Part 5 of another lovely spanking story by ‘B’

‘B’ is a lady who has been a contributor of mine for years and has written many fabulous stories for me. To see the rest, go to the menu bar above, and click on ‘links and contributors‘, then click on ‘contributors‘and scroll down to her page.


Victoriana part 5

Two weeks later Monsieur Maurice announced that we would be spending a long weekend in France, near Paris, in Versailles. “It is a small school similar to ours. They are training young ladies to be fluent in English, its called Crimson School.” We smiled when we heard the name.

“You will prepare your backpacks with everything required for 4 days. Your uniform for travelling will include red tartan skirts, navy blazers, white blouse, white socks, etc.” Madame Yvonne added, “No make up!”

Next morning Madame inspected us. None of us were wearing make up. We didn’t want to travel with martinet decorated thighs.

We took the Eurostar, and for a few seconds I saw the Calais station, it looked very modern. At the Gare du Nord, Gustave rented a minibus, and we took the Francilliene outer beltway to Versailles. During the drive we remembered the French Navy cadets who had wolf whistled us at the Gare du Nord. “I wouldn’t have minded a French kiss with hands up under my skirt.”

The Crimson School was housed in a large manorial estate on the outskirts of Versailles. The French girls were wearing uniforms with shortish grey pleated skirts, navy blazers, white blouses, and grey socks. A gentleman dressed with very British tweed welcomed us. He was obviously a Briton. He was joined by a picture perfect British schoolmarm.

Mister Briton offered a short speech. We didn’t miss the nutty gritty line. “As your school, we also believe in firm traditional discipline, and my name is Monsieur Armstrong, and my wife is Mrs Olivia.”

Then we were paired with the French girls. “Marie, please release Agathe from her corner time. The two of you will be accommodating Alicia and Josephina…” Marie offered a warm smile, and lead us.

We just about stopped in our tracks when we saw Agathe. We assumed that it was her as she was the only girl standing in a corner of the grand hall. She had her hands atop her head, and her skirt was rolled up above her very bare bottom. Amelia exclaimed, “Ouch! That looks like the cane!”

Her friend told her that her corner time is over. She hurriedly released her skirt, and gingerly pulled up her petite culotte. She also confirmed, “Sniff, it was six of the best!.”

On the way to their dorm rooms, we further questioned her, and she confessed, “I was caught with cribs.”

They had a lovely dorm room overlooking the garden. We dropped our backpacks and offered to help Marie with Agathe’s after spanking care.

Josy asked if they are “cane happy”.

Marie answered, “That cane is rarely used. Their usual implement is an old leather sole, they call it the slipper. Its very stingy!”

I giggled, “A slipper, that’s very British.”

Agathe was recovering, “Let me guess! They are using a martinet on you!”

We laughed, and a bell interrupted us. We didn’t have to be told that it was time for lunch. “Our menus usually have a British flavor, but with your venue it will be a mix.”

After lunch it was dictée for us and dictation for the French girls. The grading system was the same as for us, less 4 points for grammar and spelling mistakes, less 2 points for minor mistakes. We were warned, “Less than 12/20 and you will be punished…”

Although I had made some progress, I only had 9/20, and I was due a severe spanking. Madame Olivia had me show how the French girls are punished. While standing by her side, she first had me raise my skirt and to keep it up while she pulled my knickers down and picked them up after having told me to step out of them. I was blushing even before everyone saw my little curls. Worse was to come, she pulled me over her knees with my very bare bottom facing the whole classroom.

Then she spanked my bum and upper thighs with that slipper. I got two dozens smacks, the Crimson School standard tariff. I couldn’t help it, I pedaled and stomped the teacher’s platform as a well punished schoolgirl, and must have showed everything!

She helped me up and ordered, “Take off your skirt.” Red face with my bum and thighs throbbing, I was quite convinced to obey. Then she showed me the corner.


To be continued…


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