A tough day for Belinda

Belinda Krüger is the alter-ego of Gesperax, and she very kindly wrote a sequel to the latest story, ‘A Visit from the Landlady. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did!

A tall, buxom blonde looked around in a hugger-mugger, and carefully, trying not to draw any attention, rubbed her plump bottom tightly clad in a pair of a black leather pants. She always liked to wear tight things which accentuated her curves, but not this day. The only reason she had put on these leather pants was that those were the best choice to ride a motorcycle.

Of course, it was not the best day for such a ride, but a bicycle or car would have only been worse. Belinda Krüger rubbed her sore bottom again and sighed. The German blonde had no idea how she would be able to sit down during all her classes that day. All the bruises Madame Beauvoir’s paddle had left on her plump buttocks were terribly sore. Belinda sighed again. The worst thing was that she had no wish to make anyone even suspect that her bottom was aching. Yes, it was only her fault that she and her flatmate Alice had gotten into such trouble with their landlady.

Slowly, Belinda walked into an auditorium and very carefully sat down at her place, trying not to wince when the burning in her sore buttocks became stronger. Madame Beauvoir’s paddle had been really bad, but that day had gotten much worse. Belinda couldn’t blame Alice for her ire, since she had brought both of them into trouble. But she really didn’t expect how furious she would be.

***

“Alice, bitte, I am sorry!” Belinda said, rubbing her sore bottom nervously “Look, if you want to spank me, right now it will be really painful just with your hand!” she gulped.

“Maybe,” the French girl replied, focusing her attention on a clasp-pin with which she was picking the lock on the closet where Madame Beauvoir kept all her dreadful arsenal.

“But I really want to be sure I’ll drive the message home! And since you introduced me to many things about German culture, I want to repay a debt and introduce to you one very important thing from French culture!”

***

Belinda shook her head, trying to focus at the lecture, but every time she was moving even a bit, the sharp pain in her buttocks was making her bite her lips and even more wiggling, trying to find a position, in which she would be able to sit comfortably even a bit.

***

The lock finally gave up, and the closet opened, and both girls gulped again, seeing all Madame Beauvoir’s dreadful arsenal once again.

“I bet, if Frau Beauvoir finds out you picked her closet she will be even more mad, than today…” Belinda trembled.

“Well, I’ll think about that, when she visits us next time…” Alice grinned, gazing at all the implements in the closet. “And now I need to choose my little assistant for our very long talk!”

***

Belinda noticed some curious and suspecting glances from the students, which were sitting near her, and again tried her best not to wiggle and sniff. She felt like she was sitting on a sizzling hot stove. Or like a cat on a hot tin roof. Or like a dog, who got boiled for howling or barking under a window. And the class was still far from over! And it was just the first one… This day would be very long for sure! Those thoughts and feelings made her focus more on the memories, which were fresh enough, than on the lecture.

***

Alice finally made her choice. She took the martinet and looked at Belinda. The German sniffed and rubbed her bottom.

“Alice, bitte… Maybe this is not that necessary?” she trembled, looking at her flatmate’s weapon.

“It is!” the French nodded strictly. “When you asked me for help, I gave you a hand. But, since you turned it into nothing more, but a problem for both of us, I guess, I need to give you a hand in some different way!” she growled. “Now take off your pants and panties and stay on all fours! You’d better hurry, or I’ll start adding some extra strokes for every second I’ll wait!”

Belinda mumbled something in German, but looking at martinet in Alice’s hand she cowardly took off her leggings and panties for the second time that day. But this time, she also lost her heels. So, bared for the waist down, she stood on all fours in front of her flatmate.

Alice grinned, looking at her already bruised backside. “Well, when I’ll finish with you, you’ll recall this for the rest of the week!” she said and overstepped Belinda, locking her between her legs. “And now I’ll give your fesses a bonne fessée!”

Belinda gulped and closed her eyes, mumbling a prayer. For a few seconds a complete silence filled the room. And then with a whistling sound martinet swished air and with a sound clap it’s lashes landed on a big round German buttock, which was already very tender after the paddling from landlady, with a loud switching sound, and then even more loud girlish howling filled the room.

“AUTSCH!!!! AU!!! AU!!! But Alice! Are we not friends?!” Belinda wept.

“Yes, we are!” Alice replied in a stern voice “But sometimes being a friend means to be strict!” and she raised her hand again.

The martinet was falling down on Belinda’s sore buttocks again and again, leaving deep red stripes over her buttocks, which were already spotted with some bruises after the paddling. Belinda howled and wept. She kicked her legs, almost falling on the floor, and wagged her bottom, trying to save it from the retribution, but Alice held her in position strong enough to make her unable to escape.

***

One of Krüger’s usual problems was that she often could easily fall asleep, listening to lectures. But not today. The sharp burning pain in her first paddled and then whipped buttocks was too strong for that. But on the other hand, that pain also made her unable to really listen to the professor.

***

“I just want to make the things clear!” Alice said, giving a hard, burning stroke to Belinda’s ass at each word “When you’re asking me for any help, I’m expecting that you’ll keep your promises but not to get me into trouble! And I’m also expecting that you’ll be as good as your word!” she raised her voice to talk down Belinda’s crying and howling “And if you’ll behave yourself like an untrustworthy naughty girl, I will treat you like one! Even if that’ll mean that I’ll hide this German ass of yours like there’s no tomorrow!”

And Belinda really felt it like there wouldn’t be any tomorrow. She had ended up like this quite often, and she could say that this was one of the worst that had ever happened to her buttocks. Now she was sorry for all her misdeeds. She wasn’t totally agreeing with Alice that she deserved such a merciless punishment, but she was ashamed enough to take it from her.

***

Belinda wiggled again, making the students, more of which were watching her mystery distress, then listening to the professor, smirking and giggling. They all were pretty sure of what had happened to naughty blonde, since it was not the first time that she had had some troubles with sitting down during the classes, what she always tried to hide but always not very successfully. Belinda tried to sit on her hip. It helped for some time, but it wasn’t very comfortable, so she had no choice, but to sit on the other.

***

After some minutes, some very painful and humiliating minutes for Belinda, Alice finally stopped and touched the very sore and very sorry flatmate’s bottom, checking the welts from the martinet.

“Well, I hope you learned your lesson!” she said, giving Belinda a slap with her hand, making the German scream “Now get up!” she continued, and slapped Belinda’s buttocks again.

Belinda jumped up and started the brat war-dance, clutching her burning bottom and howling in pain. Alice giggled at her flatmate’s discomfort and, after a few minutes, which Belinda spend dancing in pain, caught her by the hand.

“Now you’ll return to the corner and will stay there, until I’ll say, you can leave!” she said and made the tear-stained girl stand in a corner her nose to the wall with her hands on her head.

Belinda whimpered and moaned, feeling totally embarrassed.

***

When the class was finally over, Belinda slowly went out from the auditorium, trying not to pay any attention to any suspicious grins. She followed to the restroom, where she could finally put her too-tight-for-this-day pants down and give some relief to her poor, sore buttocks. She tried to imagine how she would survive all the classes, if even the first one had been such a torture, and burst into tears.

The babysitter

Daddy!” the little boy said with a giggle as the door opened, and he ran towards his very confused father. His equally confused mum came followed in and closed the door.

“James? Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked, worried.

James giggled and threw his arms up with a big , adoring smile. His father lifted him up in his arms after putting his own coat away, and began searching through the house for the babysitter. There was a half-eaten pizza still on the sofa, James’s toys were strewn everywhere, the TV was on, showing some cartoons. Jessica, the babysitter, was nowhere to be found.

“Jessica?” the father called, “Jessica, where are you?” There was no answer but a noise upstairs caught his attention. He gave the boy to his mother and went up the stairs immediately, at once angry and worried. Was it a burglar? Had something happened to Jessica? The lights were on in the upstairs corridor, the doors all closed.

He paused and listened. A giggle came out of the spare bedroom and he moved in closer to the door, quietly. Another giggle. His worries burned away, leaving only anger, and he almost kicked the door open. As he’d suspected, the girl was there, with whom appeared to be a very surprised young man.

“Oh my God!” Jessica screamed, startled, as her boyfriend tried desperately to pull his jeans up. The father spared him but a glance.

“Out!” he said, pointing a finger at him and then at the door. He was trying his best to keep his voice down so as not to worry his young son. “Out now!”

The boyfriend hurried himself out without a word, leaving Jessica on the bed, mortified, looking down at the floor.

“I…” she started, then closed her mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Yes?” he said with a glare, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry Mr. Jones, I…”

“How old are you again, Jessica?”

“I… Nineteen, sir, wh—”

“And you think that leaving a four year old on his own in front of a TV is a responsible kind of behaviour? Do you think that’s acceptable? Is that what we pay you for?”

Her blush intensified and she mumbles a little “No sir…”

“What was that?”

“No, sir… I’m sorry…”

“Sorry… You’re going to be sorry. Come downstairs. Right now,” he said, and took a step back against the door, freeing the doorway. She blushed and chewed on her lip a little.

“Yes, Mr Jones… It’s just that… I…” She paused, “I’m not wearing any trousers…”

He sneered, “Don’t worry about that, Jessica, you won’t need them, believe me…”

38

What followed was a long, hard lesson taught firmly over Mr. Jones’ knees. Mrs Jones, having finally put James into bed, came back to scold her while the slaps continued to pour down on her already crimson buttocks. Tears streamed down her face as she cried pitiful sorries to no avail.

When her bruised cheeks were finally given a rest, she was sent to the corner of the living room and told that she would have to clean up all the mess that she had left with her red, punished bottom on display before she’d be allowed to get her trousers back. She did as she was told, still sniffling and rubbing her round buttocks until she was finally handed her jeans. She winced and moaned softly as she pulled the rough fabric over her tender behind.

She stood by the door, about to leave, her head bowed.

“I’m really sorry, Mr and Mrs Jones…” she said coyly.

“A lesson only has value if it’s learnt, Jessica,” the father said.

She unconsciously rubbed her backside with a pout. “I’ve learnt my lesson, sir…”

“We’ll see, Jessica. Be there at six next Saturday, no delay, understood?”

She opened her eyes wide and nodded forcefully, “Yes, sir!”

Caned

She looked back at me, her crimson bottom almost glowing in the subdued lighting. Tears were still rolling silently down her cheeks, even now that the sobbing had stopped.  She had her hands against the wall, her tender, round, and bruised bottom on display. The cane strokes had left clear marks on it, straights line on the curves of her buttocks, whiter at their center where the rattan had struck. I could almost still hear the dry, cruel crack of it against her pale skin, a fraction of a second before her cries of pain.

She had not protested when she had been told to bend over the back of the sofa, her hands flat on the cushions, her pale orbs high up in the air. She had shivered and moaned as I had caressed her with the cane —a prelude to the pain to come— but she hadn’t said a word.

The cane had risen and fallen again and again, coming down hard, criss-crossing her behind in fiery lines of pain. She was in tears by the second stroke, bawling by the sixth, stomping her feet in between each hard stroke in the vain hope that it would make the burn go away. She had clenched her cheeks, shut her eyes, gritted her teeth, and withered the storm like the good girl she knew I wanted her to be.

Biggirl