Exchange student

“Stop!” she yelled, “Stop spanking meeeee!”

He didn’t. In fact, it only made him spank her harder. Left-right, left-right, heavy, punitive slaps. Her small bottom was bouncing and wriggling under his painful attentions, and tears were streaming down her face over her blushing cheeks.

“It’s not… oww!… it’s not fair!”

He said nothing, readjusting her over his lap and resuming the spanking impassively.

“I mean… Ooow! Stop!… It wasn’t that bad…”

He rolled his eyes and pulled her skirt up in a swift, sharp move. He couldn’t help but pause, not because of her outraged cries and pitiful attempts at getting her skirt back down, but rather mesmerised by the two perfect little pink globes he had revealed. She was wearing the smallest pair of panties —hardly any protection at all— and her fretting made her bottom wiggle and bounce in a most alluring manner. He lifted his arm up again.

 

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Oooooow! How dare you! It was just— Oww!! It was just a little prank!”

He clenched his jaw at the memory, and slapped her tight bottom harder than ever. Just a prank… The nerves on this one…

“Okay… Okay! I’m sorry! It was… OoooOoow!!… just to welcome you… Ow, ow, oOOow! It’s tradition ! Don’t you have traditions like that in Europe?”

“Oh we have many traditions in Europe,” he said with a hint of an accent, “Most of which don’t involve humiliating other people…” he landed a couple more swats and went on:

“But first of all, the swastikas are really offensive,” he said, punctuating each word with a hearty slap, “And second of all, I’m not even German!”

Oow! But Europe…”

“Is a continent, not a country. Consider this your first lesson, the first of many!”

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Diner with his boss

He had warned her once: “Watch your language, Nina.”

She had rolled her eyes and nodded. Yes she would, she was sorry. He’d heard it all before, but he wanted to believe her. He had invited his boss and her husband over, and he wanted her to make a good impression; a promotion was not on the table yet, but he wanted all the chances he could get. So Nina had been told to behave. So far, so good.

His boss was sat on the sofa, enjoying a glass of sparkling wine and enjoying a handful of almonds. Nina had gone to the kitchen to keep an eye on the roast and get another bottle of cava. He poured his boss’ husband a glass of red wine —finishing the bottle— and started talking about rugby. Scotland, he argued, was past due for a comeback and—

“Oh shit!” he heard coming from the kitchen with a loud noise of broken glass.

He blushed and excused himself immediately. He got to the kitchen, where Nina was squatting over the broken glass with a dustpan and a brush.

“What happened?” he asked

“What do you think?” she shrugged, “The fu… I mean, the glass fell, and it broke. It’s what tends to happen when glass falls…”

“Nina…” he warned “Watch your tone…”

She said nothing and pushed the last bits of glass in the pan, then got up to empty it in the bin. She adjusted her tight skirt and looked up at him shyly.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s just a glass… But…”

She lowered her voice “But I’ll watch my mouth… Sir…”

“Good girl. You know what will happen if you don’t…”

They went back to the living room. and resumed the vacuous small-talk as if nothing had happened. The radio was on, some easy listening station, and a pleasant smell was coming from the kitchen.

He looked at her pouring herself another glass of bubbly and raised an eyebrow. She caught his expression and mouthed a “What?” while opening her eyes wide and shaking her head a little. She put the bottle down and emptied half of her glass in one gulp.

Distracted, he asked the husband to repeat what he’d just said when Nina spilled her glass all over her new, cotly dress.

Shit, shit shit!” she cried, immediately getting up and patting herself down. His boss was looking at him quizzingly. He got up.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll get you some clothes…”

She did as she was told and he followed her to their en-suite bedroom after apologizing profusely and making sure his guests had all they needed. He got in and closed the door.

“Nina?” he called, softly.

She came out of the bathroom in a tank-top and her panties. She was blushing and kept her eyes down.

“I… I’m sorry, Sir…”

He sat on the bed and beckoned her over.

“No… Please… Sir… Love… Your boss, they…”

“Don’t make me ask you again, Nina,” he said firmly, and with a little nod, she came and wrapped herself over his knees. He immediately grabbed her pink panties and pulled them up in a painful wedgie, revealing the little that they covered. The slaps fell, hard and relentless, and soon she began softly crying and whispering little “sorries” in between sobs. Her bottom turned pink, then red, then a bright crimson as he poured spank after spank on it. Mindful of his boss waiting and the roast about to be cooked, he stopped and grabbed her hair, bending her head backwards and whispering in her ear.

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A few minutes later they were both back in the living-room, where no comment was made and the rest of the evening went by with no incidents.

A week later, he received an email from his boss, praising him for his people skill and how he knew how to handle troublesome elements. She praised him over the discipline he had been showing in his work, and the firm hand he showed in negotiation. She was offering him a promotion.

She had added a post-scriptum : Thank your lovely wife for the opportunity she gave me to appreciate your dedication.

An interview…

Khalisah al-Jilani, for those not familiar with the MassEffect series of games, is a journalist. And a damn annoying one at that, very hostile in her on-camera interviews with you, the protagonist, and always trying to paint you into a corner. She appears in the 3 first games of the series and never gets less infuriating… Ever since I first stumbled into her web of lies and deceits, I’ve been thinking that she deserved a good spanking… On camera of course!

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Laura’s exam

*SMACK!* the first slap fell and Laura cried out as her eyes watered instantly. *SMACK!* another, just as hard ; she clenched her teeth, moaning painfully as the next ten fell in a quick succession over her short skirt. Way too short, she thought as she lay across her teacher’s lap, the top of her stockings already peeking out from under the blue tartan fabric.

Laura had always been tall, and even now in college she was among the tallests in her class. That had gotten her some attention over the years but never had she regretted more than that morning as she was taking her final in a crowded room and thought herself safe from the eyes of her teachers.

She had thought she would get away with a little help sheet, just a few formulae to help her out. She had thought she wouldn’t be noticed. She had thought she would get away with it. She had thought wrong, of course.

As she was giving her work back, her teacher had taken Laura aside and informed her he would be failing her, and that she could try her luck again the next year. Her head bowed, blushing, tears in her eyes, she had begged quietly, tried to explain herself, promised she would do anything, but it was all to no avail.

Laura had decided to wait in the corridor until all the other students had gone, and had gone back inside to try her luck on last time. Her teacher and the other two that were helping him that day stared at her when she entered the room and walked to them. She couldn’t have been more ashamed —or so she thought at the time.

*SMACK!* the slaps continued to rain down on her barely covered bottom, pain and heat building up rapidly as her teacher scolded her for daring to cheat, having the nerve to ask for leniency, her skimpy outfit, everything. She cried more out of shame than out of pain, the thought of disappointing him even worse than simply failing her class.

He got her skirt up with a quick pull and instantly resumed her punishment, her little light-pink thong offering no protection at all. The two other teachers still hadn’t left the room, and were going to great lengths to go in every row and check that no student had forgotten a pen or an article of clothing, or anything really. She could feel their gaze on her long legs, her red, burning bottom. And still the spanking went on, harsh and unforgiving.

Her thong went down and so did the tears on her face, abundant now. She could feel the bulge in her teacher’s trousers as he continued berating her and slamming his palm on her already crimson behind. She couldn’t even understand what he was saying anymore, the pain overwhelming all her other senses. She moaned, loudly, she cried, she begged. Spank after hard spank rained down on her slender cheeks in a continuous shower, leaving not a single spot unblemished. It seemed to her it went on forever until, at last, he stopped.

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He got her up from over his knees and pointed to the desk.

“I’ll give you one hour to retake the exam,” he said, and she nodded, sniffling and trying to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She didn’t dare rubbing her bottom for fear he would take her over his lap again.

“However,” he continued, “you will take it standing at that desk, with your skirt up and your…” he shook his head, “…thong down.”

She blushed. “But sir…”

“I’m not done!” he cut her, and got up, taking his belt of with metallic click, “You will be getting sixty strokes of the belt, one for every minute I give you.”

Laura felt a shiver go up her spine and her hand flew to her bottom. “I…”

“Last chance, miss Spencer. You can walk away and fail your exam, it’s all the same to me.”

Head bowed, she walked over to the desk. He got a fresh paper out of his briefcase and put it down before her. She assumed the position: bent over the desk, a pen in her hand and her throbbing bottom up. She could barely see the paper through the tears.

Her teacher got behind her, his belt held in a loop in his hand. He raised his arm high.

“Your test begins… Now!”

Emma’s Speeding

Emma took a quick look in her mirror, pouting her lips and rearranging her hair. It was the third time this month that her car was pulled over by the police for speeding. So far, not a single ticket, she knew how to take them. She pulled her top down a little and pushed her breasts up. It was crass but it worked. Lowering the music on her radio, she put on her nicest smile, opened her window all the way and purred :

“Oh, I’m so sorry officer… I was distracted… I’m sure that you can—” she abruptly stopped as her eyes went up and saw the lady in a police uniform, her arm crossed over her chest, an eyebrow lifted.

“I… Hum…” she started again,

“So you’re that German girl I’ve been hearing about…” the policewoman interrupted, “Seems like a warning isn’t enough for you, huh?”

“No, I mean… It’s is… Ma’am…” she stuttered, blushing. This wasn’t going according to plan at all.

“I need your driving licence and the car’s registration,” the lady said matter-of-factly.

Emma nodded and ruffled through her bag to find her purse.

“I… It’s in here somewhere…”

“You don’t have your papers with you?”

“No I do… It’s just… Hum…”

“You realise you’re in another country, fraülein, right?” she said dismissively and crossed her arms over her chest again.

“I…” Emma blushed even more, looking in her bag again, desperately emptying it over the passenger’s seat.

The policewoman rolled her eyes.

“Come out of the vehicle, mademoiselle.”

“What? Why?”

“Come out of your car,” she said again with a stern look. There was no arguing with her and Emma knew she was in enough trouble already ; apparently that woman knew she had been caught speeding before, she didn’t have any papers with her, she should play nice. The young blonde girl opened the door and gingerly stepped out. Cars were flashing by on the motorway by the dozens.

“Do you know what country you’re in?” the officer said with a smile.

Frankreich? I mean, France?”

“Yes. And we don’t have autobahns here, you understand? Speed is limited. Everywhere. But you know that, don’t you?”

“I…”

“You know that because my colleagues have told you so before.”

“How… How do you know it was me?” she said, a little defiant.

“Blond, German girl in her late twenties driving a white BMW at reckless speeds and trying to entice young policemen? There are surprisingly few of those.”

“Still doesn’t prove—”

“I’ve gotten them to give me your plate number, mademoiselle,” she cut her.

Emma blushed and looked down, her hands nervously twisting.

“Now, I think there’s only one thing to do… I’ll have to take you to the station. We’ll arrange for your car to be towed…” the policewoman continued.

“No, please… I’m sure my papers are in there… I… I’m sorry… Bitte… Please…”

“I don’t want to know how you got out of trouble before, I’ve only heard the other guys bragging about ‘that German hottie in her white car’, but it’s not going to work on me, I can tell you that.”

“Please, Madame, I… I was going to be late to an appointment… It’s really important…”

“Well look at you now! You’re not going to make the appointment at all!”

“I beg you…” she teared up, her lip quivering, “I will lose my job…”

The policewoman looked at the young German girl in silence while tears rolled down her face. With her hair cut to shoulder length, her big, flashy sunglasses up in her hair, the fancy clothes and car, she was everything the French woman despised. She was young and well off and thought herself above the rules and laws. “I’ll show her…” she thought.

“Fine,” she said, “Step over to the front of the vehicle and put your hands on the hood.”

Emma sniffled and did as she was told. The hood was warm to the touch. She looked back at the officer over her shoulder.

“Are… Are you going to search me? I don’t do drugs, I…”

“No, mademoiselle, I’m going to spank you.”

“You’re going to wh—”

The first slap interrupted her, her head jolting up in surprise. “Oooow!” she yelped. The slaps came in quick successions, heating up her bottom through her tight jeans. She tried to cover her behind and only got harder slaps for her trouble.

“Keep your hands down or it’ll get a lot worse for you,” the woman warned as more heavy smacks rained down on her poor teutonic buttocks. Cars were still zipping by, some of them honking as they passed them.

Emma tried to get up again. “That’s enough!” she said, her voice trembling with humiliation and anger.

“You had been warned!” the policewoman said, putting her hand on her back and pushing her back down. Then, with her left, she grabbed Emma’s jeans and yanked them down to her thighs.

“Nooo!!” Emma cried, “You can’t do that!”

“I don’t think you have a say in the matter, mademoiselle,” the officer answered as she pulled the pair of white panties down as well. “Now don’t move!”

Emma was wincing and clenching her round cheeks as the spanking began anew with renewed fury over her bare, exposed bottom. It was now in full view to all the people driving along the road, and she heard people yell encouragements to the police officer through their car windows. She struggled to stay still, rising on her toes with each hard slap. She had never been so humiliated in her life! That… monster was pouring spank after hard spank on her round cheeks. The burning was intense, the shame unbearable, and still she went on.

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The spanking went on for what seemed like an eternity to the poor Emma, her roasted bottom on display and sending wave of heat and pain up her core. She clenched her teeth and tried not to give the policewoman the satisfactions of the moans of pain, but failed miserably.

“Oooooooow! Oow! Aaaaa…”

The woman, on the other hand, was enjoying herself fully, dishing out pain and justice with every hard blow. That dumb German bimbo thought she could get the better of the French police? Well who was having the last laugh now? She grinned as she spanked the girl’s two red orbs, marking them with deep red handprints.

When the officer finally relented, the poor girl almost fell down on the hood of her car, sobbing, rubbing her poor, thoroughly punished bottom. She wasn’t thinking of the people passing by anymore, she wasn’t even thinking about the policewoman or her appointment, all she could think of was how much her bottom hurt.

The policewoman rubbed her hands together, sore as they were, and cleared her throat.

“Consider this a warning, then,” she said with a cruel smile. “I’ll give you a form so that you can make it to your appointment even without your licence…”

The girl sobbed and nodded a little “Danke,” still rubbing her bottom.

A few minutes later, she was back in her car, trying to fix her makeup as most of it had run down her cheeks. She had cringed and yelped as she had pulled her jeans up over her burning, crimson behind, and again as she had sat on the leather seats, her bottom sore and swollen.

“Well,” she thought, “at least I got away with it again… But that woman spanked a lot harder than the other policemen…”

Belinda’s Party

I’m very please to welcome a guest writer today, the lovely Gesperax from over at dA, who has a particular thing for international spankings. Her main character, Belinda, a typical German girl, always finds herself in some kind of spanking-related trouble… ^^

The party was in full swing. There were people dancing in the ballroom, mingling between themselves throughout the halls, and committing debauchery in the upstairs bedrooms. This year university Halloween party had an animal theme, so the all guests were dressed in the costumes more or less looking as different animals. Of course, the most popular were exotic predators, but some of the students had chosen types more usual to Northern Hemisphere.

A not very tall curvy blonde in a very revealing wolf-costume walked around the hall. It was Belinda – a German exchange student. She looked around and took a glass of grog from the table. She looked around again and grinned, seeing Melissa – a small slim brown-haired girl in a bunny costume, which looked more like a playboy-girl costume. The German came near and whispered: “Are you a snack?” she giggled at her own joke.

“Very funny, Belinda!” Melissa replied “But would you like to tease someone else? I don’t like your sense of humour!”

“Or, really?” Belinda grinned, “Maybe have you no sense of humour?”

“I’m not sure, that you have one!” Hélène – a beautiful French girl in a vixen-costume said, suddenly appearing from behind. The German turned to her.

“What did you say?” she asked a bit angrily.

“I said, that your own sense of humour is really bad,” the French girl replied “So it’ll be better if you won’t repeat such jokes!”

Belinda grinned: “Oh yeah, and what will happen to me if I do?”

Hélène grinned: “Your plump butt will be as red, as this grog!”

For a few moments, Belinda looked rather confused and even frightened, then her face turned a bit red from the anger. “Watch your tongue, Foxy!” she stepped forward, getting closer to her opponent.

“What’s the matter, Wolfy?” Hélène giggled.

“How dare you call me fat?” the German whispered angrily.

“Maybe because that’s true?” the French looked at her innocently and stepped back.

Belinda groaned and spilled her grog right in her opponent’s face, but right when she tried it, somebody in a bear costume appeared right between them. A moment later he stopped, wiping his face, and then turned to Belinda, who recognized Vladislav – a tall, really looking like a bear, muscular exchange student from Russia, who was famous for his very short temper.

“What the hell is going on?!” he shouted “Do you think it’s funny?!”

“Emm…” Belinda mumbled.

“Oh, I’ll show you an emm!” he said and pulled girl by her ear to the chair nearby. He sat down and pulled the German over his knee. Belinda squirmed and struggled, trying to break out. “What do you think you are doing?!” she shouted.

“Well, just give you your reward!” he said and lifted her grey mini-skirt and pulled her panties to her knees. Her bottom was on display to everyone at the party who was watching.

Belinda gasped in fear and shame and tried to break out but Vladislav held her firmly. He raised his arm. Hélène stood behind him, grinning.

Suddenly there was a loud pop followed by a cry as the Russian palm came down hard on the German bottom. Everyone cheered and laughed at the punishment. Vladislav smiled and told the crowd that it would appear Belinda had never gotten a proper punishment before. The crowd laughed even harder as he brought his palm down repeatedly on Belinda’s bottom.

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Belinda moaned and clenched her teeth, trying not to scream again, but after the few more spanks she started squirming over the Vladislav’s knee and wagging her bottom, trying to save it from his stinging palm. She moaned and screamed in pain, cursed and sweared, but quickly started begging and bawling. She felt like her bottom was on fire. She howled in pain like a real she-wolf, when the Russian bear finally thought that she had enough and threw her from his knee.

The poor girl landed right on her tender bottom, and that made her jump up screaming in pain and started the brat war dance for a few minutes. Finally relieving from the pain a bit she looked around. Everyone were looking at her, laughing. She cried in shame and ran away, clutching her sore bottom.