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If there was one thing Amélie would not miss when she went on exchange from her French school to the Bexhill School for Girls, it was the martinet. The wretched Directeuse seemed to use it at the least excuse. How many times had Amélie found herself in this position - knickers around her knees, dress pulled up, and flat across the Headmistress' desk while those awful leather tails whipped against her backside? Usually it was ten lashes, although once she'd had fifteen. She even knew one girl had been given twenty, but that was because she had blown her nose on the French flag in the playground.
Ooooh la la! That was number three.
And what was her offence today? Was it surprising that she'd been caught day-dreaming again? It was only a few days ago that she and Nicole had been told they'd be going to Bexhill next term and so of course they were still excited and couldn't stop talking about it - something which had already cost them a thrashing from Professeur Dubois only a few hours after they had heard the news [see Bexhill Book 1 - A Spanking in Time]. Poor Nicole would be standing outside in the corridor now, listening to the commotion coming from inside the HM's study and knowing it would be her turn next.
Ouch! Number 4.
Oh well, Amélie was sure that English schools didn't use the martinet. Then she remembered: didn't they use a cane instead? What was the expression she'd heard? 'Six of the best', that was it. Would it be worse than this? Amélie wondered. Would she and Nicole find out? She hoped not
Yeow! Number 5. Sacré bleu, only half way.
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