French Lessons (6 page)

“Please
no more Daddy! Please!”

Harry
wasn’t listening. Brusquely, he applied his strong roughened palm to the lower
cheeks of his daughter’s bottom. Impressing home to her once again the stiffest
lesson, exactly where she would sit. A dozen or so hard spanks gave out crisp
cracking shots around the bureau, accompanied by a further round of Eleanor’s
humiliated wailing. Hearing it, Tamara felt for the girl as never before. How
painful it sounded! Curling up on the large sofa in the day lounge, Tamara was
compelled by the sounds of hard male hand on bare female skin, and by the
shrill girlish protestations. She imagined Harry’s hand, so good at caressing
in lovemaking, spanking a bare bottom. For a second, she dared to imagine not
his daughter’s current predicament – but one of her own, over her husband’s
knee.

Then
suddenly it was all over. Harry stopped the spanking, having lost count of the
blows he’d delivered. Eleanor’s whole bottom burned a vile, red hot. Harry
smartly pulled down her dress skirt in one move, leaving the knickers at her
knees. He bent down to replace his shoe. Free to stand now, Eleanor lay still
crying loudly, not even sure if she had the strength to move.

“Up
you get now,” her father said rather more gently. “That’s your punishment over,
provided you behave yourself. Go and get ready for bed.” He patted her covered
rear a few times, softly.

Slowly
and in complete agony from her behind, Eleanor rose to her feet, shaking. Messy
tears of humiliation coursed down her face. Her drying curly hair was mussed
all over. She was too ashamed to look her father in the face.

“Why
did you do that to me, Daddy?” she sobbed. “I shall never recover from it! And
I’ll never forgive you for the rest of my whole life!”

Like
a little girl, she rubbed her eyes and cried mournfully. Her bottom was
throbbing furiously, quite the most physically painful thing she had ever
experienced. Her head was now thick and fuggy, as the effects of the champagne
wore off completely. How would she ever get over the horror of this day that
had started so magically, and ended up with the worst thing that had ever
happened to her? Her babyish crying grew louder.

Harry
was bored now with her histrionics. He rose to his feet and tucked the chair
under his large oak desk. Wiping down his water stained trousers, he sighed and
straightened himself.

“You
know exactly why you were spanked, Eleanor. It’s been explained more than once.
And this is the last time I will tell you to get to your cabin, and to bed.
Being spanked and sent to bed early is a punishment perfectly suited to a
repeatedly naughty child. I am now going to count to five....”

But
Harry had no need to. With her knickers still clinging wet to her thighs,
Eleanor turned to flee and do as she was told. There was no alternative, she
knew that. She found she could barely walk, such was the scalding heat that
burned from her damp buttocks to her thighs. She gritted her teeth through her
hot tears and made off out of the bureau, along the deck. Her little cabin was
tucked up a small alcove. Once in the door she slammed it behind her, threw
herself on the bed and started a fresh round of howling. It was misery. The
holiday was ruined. She wept with remorse and wriggled from side to side, in
fruitless effort to rid her backside of the unendurable pain. Eleanor wished
with all her might that this day had never begun.

Tamara
had heard the girl’s scurry to her cabin and the slamming of the door. She
resolved to make sure Eleanor knew that she sympathised, and hoped Harry would
permit her to try and help his daughter if she wanted her to. She wondered what
on earth state Eleanor’s rear end must be in. How long did it take to get over
a real proper spanking like that? And what did it feel like, when the spanker
had stopped and you were left on your own to ease it? Tamara’s mind was rapidly
filling with new, and strangely appealing images such as she had never
entertained before.

Up
in the Riviera Bar on the hill, Charlie thought hard as he took a drag of his
cigarillo. He thought on how he and Eleanor had far more in common than she
realised just yet. People thought Charlie’s family was grand, but they didn’t
see themselves as a cut above. They’d fought hard to keep their home after the
war effort nearly did for the men, and had narrowly escaped bankruptcy. Like
Eleanor, Charlie had been taught to recognise value above price. Yes, the
Hetheringtons had generations of wealth behind them. But spoiling the
youngsters of the family had been out of the question.

As
night fell, faint guitar and accordion music wafted in from the square outside
the hotel. Two jovial buskers were hard at work, entertaining the dog walkers
and couples walking hand in hand. Wandering over to the window and looking down
on the shimmering seas of the harbour as the sun finally dipped, Charlie
resolved to start afresh with Eleanor. She was beguiling and bright, and unlike
any of the prissy young empty–headed bobbysoxers he met at the dances at
home. His inherited wealth was substantial, and meant he had countless
opportunities now for travel and business. But there were tiresome gold–diggers
everywhere he went. He wanted a fun playmate and a companion on his own level.
And he loved France so dearly. It would be just bloody superb he thought
,
to be able to share it with someone like Eleanor. And God,
she was a hot bit of stuff, too. Sweet, yet sexy – and her headstrong
streak only added to the challenge.

“Un
autre
, monsieur?” the waiter was beside him with the
bottle in an instant, as soon as he drained his glass. Charlie politely
declined, electing to go for a walk around The Grand and take in the views down
to the harbour, and way up to the hills. He was smitten and determined now not
to let Eleanor Walker slip from his grasp.

CHAPTER SIX

Two
hours had passed since Eleanor’s dramatic punishment. Tamara desperately wanted
to talk to Harry about the whole sorry thing. Before she’d had the chance, she
had seen him wander off quickly from the yacht. He had headed towards town,
leaving his sobbing daughter below deck. Tamara knew him well enough to accept
this wasn’t rejection; he just needed to clear his head. She had then very
quietly listened again at Eleanor’s cabin door. The girl was crying
relentlessly. She had wondered if she should go in and comfort her there and
then, but quickly thought better of it. It was wiser to let them both cool off.
Eleanor in more ways than one.

Night
settled. It was a brilliant clear sky with stars as big as any Tamara had ever
seen. She had thought long and hard over the day’s events, in between glancing
reads of her magazines in the roomy deckhouse. The air grew slightly chill.
Eventually, Tamara found Harry back on the yacht, inspecting paperwork with
Stephens in the cockpit. As she wandered down to join him, Tamara saw him
staring out the porthole, his eye–line level with a deckhand’s feet as
the dining chairs were packed up. In twos and threes the staff had returned
from their nightcap treat. They had found the vessel silent, the young Miss
Walker clearly confined to her cabin. There had been much smirking, as they’d
chatted in whispers about the punishment Le Walker had so very publicly
promised the girl.

Tamara
approached Harry from behind and wrapped her arms around him. He sighed and
bent down sideway to nuzzle her hair. Stephens discreetly exited.

“Was
it awful, darling?” she asked. “I’d imagine Eleanor is in a pitiful state, from
what I could hear.”

“It’s
over and done with now. And it was nothing she didn’t earn, honey,” again Harry
tried to reassure his wife. He held her by the waist and kissed her long and
hard on the lips. Holding her face in his hands, he stared hard into her eyes.

“What
did you – smack her with?” Tamara could not help but want the details of
this pivotal event in their family life.

“My
shoe,” Harry said. “Leather sole. And then my hand. On her bare, wet bum. So
no, she won’t be sitting anytime soon. But nor will she be talking back to us,
or getting up to any more of her insolent tricks. She needed a sore lesson.”

He
held his wife close. Tamara’s heart beat a little faster, as she imagined the
shoe beating on her own bare bottom ... with Harry doling out a stern lecture,
not letting her move while he trapped her over his knee. She felt a deep inward
embarrassment, yet her tummy fluttered in excitement. Where were these new
fantasies coming from? It unsettled her, while quietly thrilling her at the
same time. She wrapped her arms tighter around Harry, willing his hands to
travel down to her bottom. He sighed and breathed in the sweet violet perfume
of her skin.

“I’ll
talk to her tomorrow, Tammy. She can spend the night thinking about why she
ended up over my knee at her age, and on holiday too. Might take a day or two
for her to settle. But by the end of the week I’ll have my old daughter back.
You just wait and see. And you’ll be able to be a proper stepmother.”

Tamara
took her husband’s hand and led him up the stairs towards the deckhouse. She
walked over to the two seater. He sat down, and she lowered himself into his
lap. She returned the kiss of just a few moments before, but slower and deeper.

“My
two girls...” Harry murmured, in between hungry kisses. “You both seem very
keen to find yourselves on my knee, one way or another!”

Tamara
giggled as his hand wandered up her outer thigh. Such a strong, comforting
feeling. But she wanted to feel that hand in punishment on her bare flesh ...
and felt another frisson of thrilling warmth in her lower tummy as she dared
actually picture it fully for the first time. Her, his wife, lying right over
Harry’s knee. His hand removing her panties.

Protesting
against it all, while still wanting him to treat her like a naughty little
girl... how sensationally erotic that must feel. She loved every inch of Harry
... loved him on top of her, inside of her.
 
She could not believe how renewed she
felt every time in his arms. Making love three times in a day was something
Harry had never dared dream of doing again, but his earnest gaze into her eyes
now revealed that yes, the night would end just that way once more. As they
kissed long and soft and hungrily, Tamara allowed her imagination to wander
free to the delicious, illicit fantasy of Harry taking her in hand. She wanted
to be spanked by him.

Alone
in her plush little cabin, Eleanor finally rose from the bed and wandered into
the shower cabinet. She was still sniffling and in a state of shock that her
doting Daddy had punished her so very terribly. At last she shed the stiff,
damp, ruined dress. She let it fall to the WC floor, taking the flowery
knickers with it. He had actually pulled them down! Never, ever did she think
he would do it on the bare bottom. Even after he’d put her so roughly over his
knee. It was all so humiliating! Turning her back to the oval gold–framed
mirror below the porthole, Eleanor at last looked at her behind. It was just
the sorry mess she’d expected. Burning scarlet red and mottled purple. Ugly,
graze like welts had risen on the apples of each of her shapely cheeks. She
wouldn’t be able to sit for goodness knows how long.

Damn
you, Daddy!

Stepping
into the narrow shower, she turned the knob and allowed a cool spray of water
to cascade down over her naked body. She twisted the heavy gold showerhead so
that the water trickled down her back and to her well–spanked bottom. She
turned it cooler. The soft water ran over her punished skin, as Eleanor leaned
in to the shower door and breathed in the sweet musky smell of her favourite
wash cream, bubbling up from a discarded sponge on the shower floor. The
thumping red–hot pain began to ease just a tiny little bit, as she let
the cooling suds continue to course over her arched behind. Never had she felt
so sore and sorry for herself.

She
wondered if Charlie would work out she’d been spanked like
that
. No doubt
everyone would guess what had happened. Her father’ had more or less told
everyone, right on the deck in full earshot of all the staff. Would she ever
see Charlie again after the stupid things she had done, making her father so
angry with him too? Rubbing her buttocks and turning the water at last
completely cold, Eleanor decided to try and recover from this awful turn of
events as fast as possible. She would
prove
she was grown–up.
Running away wouldn’t help. She could see now that her father wasn’t going to
give in. If she did leave the yacht without asking, there would simply be a
repeat performance over his knee. As her heart began to slow and the water
eased her spanked skin just a little, Eleanor promised herself that she would
never let it happen, again.

Up
on deck, young Pierre smiled as he heard the water running in the young Mam’selle’s
cabin. The rumour was that she had had
une fessée
from her Papa. He
imagined her upended and with her sweet little rear laid bare for the paternal
hand to correct it. If that was what indeed had happened, then it was just as
she deserved, after her spectacular rudeness and the fall into the water.
Pierre and his mates had enjoyed a quick smoke and a bottle of beer together,
as bidden by Walker, not long after Eleanor had been banished to the bureau.
They did not dare return to the motor–yacht or go below deck, but one or
two had heard from other crews that they could hear girlish cries and a stern
male voice float up to the harbour’s edge. It had sounded very much as though
the gruff, kindly Englishman had seen fit to give his naughty little girl a
nicely toasted botty. And all the boys laughed and agreed she had earned it, as
they clinked their glasses in a casual toast. Every single male in the vicinity
was fixated either with the sassy nineteen year old.... or with her very sexy
stepmother. Both were completely out of bounds of course, but it was already
making this summer particularly hot on the Riviera.

Another
glorious day dawned on the misty, lilac coastline. For a few seconds after she
woke up, Eleanor had no recall of the horror of the previous day. Then as she
turned in her crisp cotton sheets, the dull, beating heat in her rear end
brought a fresh reminder. She’d been spanked completely bare over her Daddy’s
knee. She cringed as she recalled the feel of his hand on her bottom,
compounding the awful damage done by that beastly shoe of his. And now she’d
have no option but to face him, and hear what new rules he was doubtless going
to impose.

As
she changed in to her summer daywear, Eleanor thought about Tamara. She hadn’t
scorned or wagged her finger, or run to tease her after the spanking. She had
just left well alone. Eleanor was rueful as she pulled little white knickers on
over her heavily marked bottom. There was no way at all she’d be able to sit
down without the aid of a very thick pillow. Every step she took, her buttocks
felt raw and stinging. It had been like every one of the childhood spankings
rolled into one, and multiplied by a hundred. Never had she imagined that Daddy
would be so mean and strict. Slowly pulling on loose striped sailing shorts
over the knickers; she dreaded the shame of having to face the world. And at
that very moment, she heard her father calling from the deck above.

“Eleanor.
Come right up, please. It’s time we had another talk, young lady. Breakfast is
ready.”

Eleanor
almost started crying again at her father’s stern tone. Hadn’t she been
punished enough?

She
was very hungry though, and the day so beautiful and bright. As she climbed up
deck slowly and walked to the breakfasting table, it was as though Tamara had
read her mind.

“Now
Harry, let’s not get the day off to a cross start. Eleanor dear, would you like
some coffee? Come and have breakfast.”

Eleanor
looked around sadly. The wrought iron breakfasting chairs posed a threat she
couldn’t bear to think of.

“If
it it’s ok, can I please just take my breakfast to my cabin?” she said meekly.

Harry
wanted to put the whole incident behind them as quickly as possible. But he was
sticking to his word. Eleanor would do exactly as she was told. He was firm,
but quiet.

“Sit
down,
Eleanor. I’m more than aware that it won’t be easy for you to do
so. But I did tell you you’d be left with a very sore reminder of what happens
when you disobey. Didn’t I?”
 

Eleanor
swallowed hard, determined not to cry. She wondered that she had any tears
left, having sobbed herself to sleep after her chastisement. Tamara leaned over
the table and pulled out the chair for her. It was best to try and be normal.

“C’mon,
honey. Let’s have a little chat shall we? Then we can get on with enjoying the
rest of this lovely day.”

Lowering
herself extremely slowly to the chair, Eleanor hung off its edge. She was glad
of the shorts she wore. They allowed a little of the cooling sea breeze to waft
across her thighs. Had they been an inch shorter, the burnished red skin of her
uncomfortably hot backside would have shown a little. As she stirred her coffee
slowly, she wished her father would speak. Harry bit into a slice of apple.
With his other hand, he played softly with Tamara’s.

“Well,
young lady. What do you have to say for yourself, now that you are having such
trouble sitting down? Isn’t that exactly what you were promised if you
continued to misbehave?”

Despite
her best efforts, fresh tears now pricked Eleanor’s eyes. She shifted her
bottom slightly. Tamara handed her a plate of croissants and jam. She really
was very kind, Eleanor thought.

“I
know. I’m – I’m sorry Daddy. I really am. But I said I was sorry at the
time! It’s not fair! So horrible and embarrassing! And now my holiday is
ruined!”

Unable
to ignore the searing throb in her seat, Eleanor burst into tears once more.
Harry sighed heavily and looked at Tamara. She was quick to act. Saying nothing,
she stood up and grabbed Eleanor. She held her close to her tummy and allowed
the teenager to sob.

“There,
sweetie... it’s really OK. Hush. You let it all go.”

“Eleanor.
I have told you why – “

“That’ll
do Harry,” Tamara used a telling–off tone he hadn’t ever heard before as
she stared fixedly into her husband’s eyes.

“We’ve
all had enough. Now this is girls’ time. Ain’t you gotta little – I don’t
know – fishing you can do?” she jerked her head to one side and made it
plain she wanted rid of him.

Harry
shrugged and made to leave.
 
He
turned back only briefly to kiss the top of his wife’s head – and then
firmly, his daughter’s. The return of her gentle giant Daddy made Eleanor weep
even more sorrowfully. Tamara held her tighter and then sat down. Harry
wandered off, awed once more by his wife’s patience and generosity of spirit.
He really was the luckiest man alive.

Alone
with her stepdaughter at last, Tamara released Eleanor from her hug and put an
arm around her shaking shoulders.