French Lessons (5 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Up
the hill less than five hundred yards away from the
Eleanor–Jane
,
Charlie Hetherington brooded angrily over a stiff Scotch. His friends had been
surprised to see him return to The Grand in such a dark mood. Especially given
how taken he had been earlier in the day, with the little blonde thing. They
had imagined he’d be even more taken, on introduction to her millionaire father’s
motor–yacht. But Charlie had told them he was making an early night of
it. He was floored by the way that cheeky, disobedient Walker girl had behaved.
He was also distracted by her beauty
, he could not
deny. He wondered how Walker Senior might be dealing with his daughter’s
stepping so very publicly out of line. Presumably the glamorous dark–haired
woman was Harry Walker’s wife. He doubted her father would excuse the way she
had been spoken to. If Harry Walker wasn’t of a mind to put his darling
daughter over his knee for her woeful behaviour, then he wasn’t half the man
his Uncle Jack had described. Hot–headed little beauty though she surely
was Charlie thought, Eleanor Walker was in dire need of a hot seat to match.
Smiling to himself, he raised a casual toast to Monaco Bay and hoped with all
his might that she was getting it.

On
the Avenue by the harbour, passers–by enjoyed the setting sun and admired
the Eleanor–Jane. All were oblivious to the painful drama now unfolding,
for the nineteen year old whose name the vessel bore. Confined to her father’s
bureau on the lower deck, from that distance no–one could hear her sorry
protests or Harry’s brusque rebuttals. Only Tamara, a few doors away, was close
enough.

“Daddy!
No! I demand you to stop this!”

But
Harry Walker took no heed of his offspring’s ‘demands’. The alluring teen was
wearing pink and yellow flowery cotton knickers that stretched tight across her
wet, quivering bottom. With every stitch she wore completely soaked through,
her neat curved buttocks were all but exposed as it was, through the thin
fabric. As her desperate begging continued, Harry briefly debated whether or
not they should be bared. It would be a sore enough spanking in any case. He
gripped the deck–shoe hard in the middle.

“I’ve
said how sorry I am!” Eleanor wailed. “I hate you I hate you! You’re evil!”

So
came another deciding moment. How dare Eleanor speak to him like that, with all
the privilege she had been afforded? Harry blanked out the tearful protests and
without thinking a second longer, he placed the shoe atop the heaped dress
skirt. Then with his right hand, her father roughly peeled Eleanor’s knickers
clean away from her bottom and down, leaving them like a creased rag on her
trembling thighs. The long drawn–out screech she emitted pulsed painfully
off the three–inch thick tight surrounds of the lower deck. Harry didn’t
flinch, and grabbed back the deck–shoe.

Tamara
almost dropped the magazine she was reading, three doors down. Oh dear. It
looked as though things could not be worse for her new stepdaughter. Was that
her panties coming down? Tamara wondered what on God’s earth that must feel
like. Harry was so strong, so big. She had sat on his knee often enough to
know... her thoughts wandering to desire for him once more. Then more indignant
yells from the bureau broke her reverie.

“
Nooooooo
! Aaaagh, nooooooo!”

Lying
in a wet, bared, undignified heap across her Daddy’s knees, with absolutely no
hope now of a reprieve, Eleanor was stunned into sheer disbelief. This had not
happened to her since she was a little girl. Her bottom was now completely
naked, in full view of her father. Still wet like the rest of her, it felt cold
and exposed in the interior chill of the yacht’s lower deck. Oh, the appalling
shame of it all! She felt her whole body grow stone cold, as she was rendered
completely vulnerable. How could her loving Daddy do this to her? Why was he
being so cruel?

“You
can’t Daddy.... please
please
please
...”
Eleanor’s begging was now coming fast, shrill and desperate.

But
she need not have bothered. Without any further hesitation, Harry raised the
deck–shoe high. He whacked it down hard across his daughter’s bare,
perfectly rounded, and still very wet bottom. The results were immediate as the
soft skin of her two pert, creamy mounds turned a bright pink. She yowled in
pain. Harry ignored her ferocious writhing, intent on delivering the soundest
hiding of her life.

“Ow!
Yow! Noooo! Ooooow!” Eleanor’s high–pitched howls rang out loud. She was
forced to succumb to the fact that yes, she was having her bare bottom spanked
across her father’s knee at the age of nineteen. The glamour of The Grand, the
drinks, handsome Charlie, all seemed like a lifetime away. Eleanor was thrust
into the very painful and embarrassing present. Her ego was brutally dismantled
by her father, as the shoe made repeated red–hot contact with her softest
spot. And there was absolutely nothing at all she could do to stop it.
 

“Ow!
Yow! No! Aow! Aow!” Along the lower deck, Tamara heard her stepdaughter’s
shrieks of irate agony and focused hard on imagining the scene.

Harry
knew that the sound leathering on wet skin was far worse than any spanking
Eleanor had had before. But her ghastly behaviour and dangerous prank had more
than warranted it. Grimly he pinned her ever tighter to him, and delivered
seven, eight, nine, ten spanks in loud succession right across her totally
bare, rounded rear. And then more.

“Aaaoow!
No! Noooo! Yow!” Eleanor yelled in sheer agony as the leather sole did its very
worst on her stripped seat. With every blow, a vicious heat spread through her
buttocks and she thrashed her arms in fury. Harry was unmoved. This most
important spanking would last, until he was satisfied that his unruly teenage
daughter had finally learned her lesson. Up and down went his sturdy arm, fit
from years of sailing and skiing. The shoe was just ideal. Its ribbed leather
sole made hard scathing contact with Eleanor’s soft bare cheeks, leaving them
aching and scarlet.

“Ow!
Ooow! Stop it! Stop it Daddy! Oooowww!” Eleanor was demented with pain and
mortification, and would have done anything in the whole world to make it all
stop. Paralysed from the waist down with her father’s heavy shin across her
lower legs, she was a howling mess. Every inch of her bottom from the crest of
her buttocks to her thighs was coming under attack from the merciless leather
sole. She screamed louder, not caring who might hear.
 
“I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

Tamara
sat silent. There was no way she could concentrate on reading. The faint dull
sounds of the punishing blows and Eleanor’s far more discernible cries, drifted
steadily along the entire length of the lower vessel. What was Harry using to
spank his daughter? Despite herself, Tamara was now filled with curiosity.
Holding a silk cushion tight to her chest, she was enthralled. Harry was so
sturdy and fit. What on earth must it feel like to be spanked by him? In a rush
of crazed, mixed emotions, Tamara then felt a hint of what was definitely
jealousy ... that she had never known this kind of paternal punishment. She had
simply no idea what a stark, no–nonsense bit of physical correction felt
like at all.

Hearing
it all so clearly, and recalling Harry’s determined threats and promises, for
the briefest moment Tamara wanted to find out for herself.

At
that very same moment, Eleanor was convinced that would never sit again. Harry
gripped her as though in a vice, doggedly focused on giving his darling
daughter the hottest bottom of her days. As she howled in complete humiliation
and scorching pain, he whacked the shoe several more times across her cheeks
with steady force.

“Aaaaaagh!
Stop it! I hate you! Ow! Ow! I’m going to run away! You’ll never see me again!
I will never, ever forgive you for this!”

Eleanor’s
words were garbled and tear–laden as she flailed her arms against the
chair leg. The spanked skin burned like fire and had been effectively dried by
the wrath of the shoe. The outrageous embarrassment of having her knickers
taken down was now the least of Eleanor’s concerns. Her bottom was ablaze. She
howled, praying that Daddy would have mercy. Time and again though, Harry beat
down with the shoe, watching his little girl’s rear end turn a dark, mottled
scarlet. It was a steady, rhythmic, spanking. Eleanor screwed up her eyes and
yelled almost hoarse, unable now to discern one blow from the next. The soaked
knickers, grubby and ruined with the salt water, slid towards her knees. She
shook in abject agony and utter shame, over her father’s iron–like
thighs.

“Daddy
pleeeeasssseee....” Harry could barely make out what his daughter was saying.
He concentrated hard as the shoe bounced off her bottom once, twice, three,
four more times. He could see faint welts forming on her lower buttocks and was
satisfied there really would be no sitting down, for quite some time. Finally
Eleanor flopped, drained of all energy and weeping loudly like a baby.

Harry
stopped the spanking and put the shoe on the floor. He straightened his hand,
now intent on completing Eleanor’s punishment with more intimate contact.

“Now
you listen to me, young lady. And I want you to listen hard.” Harry maintained
all his authority, as his cherished nineteen year old daughter bawled full of
resentment across his lap.

“Oh
I hate you! Oooow, I am going to die!”

“Eleanor!
Unless you want me to carry you to the top deck and continue your punishment in
full view of the entire harbour, you will stop your wailing and listen to me
right now. Is that clear?”

Eleanor
gave out another loud sob. She was quite convinced that he might indeed carry
out such a beastly threat. Who on earth was this cruel monster that had
replaced her lovely Daddy?

“Yes
... “ she spluttered in rage. Harry then placed his palm across her bottom
cheeks. They throbbed hot as the heat from a coal fire to his touch. Eleanor
could barely feel her father’s hand, given the awful soreness all over her
rump.

In
his ire, Harry often reverted to the coarser language of his roots.

“You’ve
had a damned good tanning to your bare bum, young missy. Something I truly
believed I would never have to give you again. Thought you’d been over my knee
for the last time, when you made a show of yourself at that Hallowe’en shindig.”

He
drew breath as Eleanor continued to sob in self–pity and acute pain.

“But
it seems not. You were warned last night that I’d tan your backside if you didn’t
behave yourself. And so what did you go and do?”

Eleanor
wept, no longer thrashing her arms or protesting. As she discerned the feel of
Daddy’s hand on her bottom, she realised she had no useful reply to offer. He
was absolutely right. She had willfully disobeyed him despite his plain threat.

“And
you know fine well why you deserved it, Eleanor,” her father went on, now
patting her sizzling hot bottom.

“Tamara
is a wonderful woman. Everyone can see that, including you. She and I are going
to spend the rest of our lives together. We want to share that happy family
life with you. But I will have absolutely no more miserable behaviour from you,
whether in my home or elsewhere. Do you hear me?”

Harry
then smacked her lower cheeks firmly a few times in succession with his hand.
Eleanor yelped in pain. For both of them, it was a rude reminder of her
childhood.

“Yes
I hear you! Please stop Daddy! I can hear you!”

Harry
stopped smacking, and again placed his hand firmly on Eleanor’s lower bottom.
Her skin throbbed mercilessly. He felt a brief pang of pity for his only little
girl. It must be so sore. Then he remembered the way Charlie had described her
conduct in The Grand. And the way she had insulted his wife. His pity was gone
in a flash, replaced with rounded satisfaction that he was doing exactly the
right thing. Over his knee, his little girl sobbed her heart out as he
continued his lecture.

“You
will welcome Tamara into our lives, just as I’ve done. You will stop your
childishness, your disobedience, and your sulky moods. If there is any further
repeat of the kind of nonsense we were witness to today, and I mean even a hint
of it, you will find yourself back over my knee in a flash. And the next time I
won’t be kind enough to spank you in privacy, Eleanor Walker. It will be skirt
up and knickers down, wherever we happen to be. I love you very much, and I
really didn’t want to do what I’ve just done. But you left me no other option
whatsoever.”

Eleanor
blubbered, trembling.

“Oh,
I want to run away! I mean it! I’ll never forgive you, ooh!”

Harry’s
hand had not moved from his daughter’s searing hot bottom.

“I’m
now about to remind you of what my hand feels like put across your bare behind.
Like it was when you were a little girl. Since you still insist on behaving
like one. Then you will go to your cabin, get cleaned up and go straight to
bed. If you disobey, it’s time for another spanking. Is all of that quite clear
to you?”

Eleanor
cried like a baby, sniffling and blinded with tears. She didn’t care about
being sent to bed. There was nowhere else she would rather be right now, height
of the summer or not. But he couldn’t spank her again, surely! She desperately
needed to rub her bottom and get some of the terrible pain away.