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.

A Visit from the Landlady

The knock on the door was the first indication that the two young students were in trouble. Mme Beauvoir, their landlady, had a very characteristic knock-knock-pause-knock that they had learnt to dread. Alice looked at Belinda, her German flatmate, with wide eyes.

“Bel?” she asked in French, “You did pay the rent on time, right? Right?”

Belinda didn’t answer. She was blushing, the wheels in her head turning, trying to remember words, trying to form a sentence in French. Nothing came. Alice put her palm to her forehead and bit her bottom lip.

Knock-knock-pause-knock, the sound came again, a little more forcefully. Clearly, Madame Beauvoir was losing patience. Alice had a quick glance around to make sure the mess wasn’t too awful, then went to answer the door while Belinda hid some takeaway boxes away and closed the door to her bedroom, where clothes had a tendency to pile up on the floor, unexpectedly. When she came back to the living-room, Alice was looking down at the floor, blushing hard, and Madame Beauvoir was in the middle of one of her dreaded tirades. Belinda wasn’t sure she understood every word, but she knew that tone, and where it lead. Instinctively, her hand went to her round, shapely bottom, and rubbed.

“Ah! Belinda!” Madame Beauvoir said, in her nasal accent, when she saw the blond girl. She switched to English, “I was saying to Alice here that again, the rent hasn’t been paid this month! This is completely unacceptable!

“Oui, Madame…” was all that Belinda could say. Alice said nothing, her eyes still firmly on the polished hardwood floor.

“And that’s after you promised last month that it wouldn’t happen again!”

“Oui, Madame,” Belinda replied with a shameful nod.

“I had warned you last month about what would happen if you were late again… didn’t I?” the landlady asked. Belinda just nodded this time.

Alice lifted her gaze and looked at her flatmate, equal parts fear and anger. “You said you would do it on time for sure!” she hissed. Belinda pouted. She had said it, that was true, and she had meant it too! She had just been… Distracted! There was this cute American boy at University. An exchange student, like her. And the Spanish one as well, plus a couple local French guys who found her accent charming and her ability to drink pint after pint of beer even more so. And… Well, maybe there had been a night or two —or five— at the bar, but that wasn’t so bad, was it? There was plenty of money… Or so she thought. After another fun night out, she had received a text from her bank… Not he good kind of text from the bank —if such a thing existed. She had been too afraid to ask Alice for money again. Surely, she would find a way to fix it before the rent was due? There was her little job at the boulangerie

Then Clément had invited her to a party at his place, and she had forgotten all about it. Until now. Time seemed to snap back, and Madame Beauvoir was pointing to the sofa in the living room and saying something in French. She rustled in her little leather handbag and produced a key. Putting the bag down, she walked to the locked closet door at the other end of the lounge, the one that tenants couldn’t open. She unlocked it with a turn of the key. Alice gasped as she saw the dozen or so implements hanging on the inside of the door. Martinets, belts, leather and hardwood paddle, a crop, a tawse… Belinda wondered whether the strict Madame Beauvoir had been a Dominatrix in a past life, or whether she had had a lot of problem tenants. Either way, she let out a little moan of anguish when the landlady took one of the wooden paddles off its hook and closed the door. The woman’s heels clacked rhythmically on the hardwood floor as she made her way back to them, tapping the paddle ominously in her open left palm.

She barked something in French, and Belinda looked at Alice in confusion. The dark-haired French girl glared. In English, she said “Take your leggings down…”

Was? Quoi? What?” Belinda stammered. Getting punished was one thing, but surely, not on the bare?

Alice shook her head and started to undo her jeans. “It’s so unfair!” she hissed again, “I gave you the money!”

Ja, I know, Alice, I’m sorry…” Belinda said, hesitantly pulling her leggings and underwear down.

“After this, you and I are going to have a talk!” Alice promised, anger in her voice. Belinda said nothing.

Mesdemoiselles!” Mme Beauvoir called, “I have other things to do today, so I would advise you to get in position quickly!”

As she said so, she gave the implement cupboard’s door a glance, a promise of what would happen if they didn’t hurry up. Within seconds, the two flatmates were in position over the back of the sofa, their trousers down to their thighs and their round white bottoms up in the air. Alice was muttering in French, and Belinda wondered how she always ended up in these situations.

Her questions were cut short by the sound of Alice screaming when the paddle came down on her ass with a loud ‘WHACK!” that she swore made the windows tremble. She looked up behind her and saw the paddle swing down again toward the French girl’s derrière. Alice screamed again, and again, and again as more swats landed on her tender cheeks. Belinda closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, knowing that she would be next. Then, suddenly, pain exploded in her rear. She opened her eyes wide as tears streamed down her face and she let out a pained cry. Just as with Alice, Mme Beauvoir poured hard smacks on her bottom, warming it to a burning sear within half a minute. As suddenly as it had started, her torment stopped, and she heard Alice screaming again. A few moments later, the paddle came back for her, and on and on it went, the two girls taking turns screaming, begging and kicking their legs.

“I will give you until the end of the week to pay your rent, ladies,” the woman was saying. “And I’ll warn you now, next time, my husband will be the one to come — and he’s not as nice as I am… Understood?”

In between sniffles and cries, the girls nodded vigorously and said, “Yes ma’m, sorry ma’m.” The paddle came down again, a dozen smacks each until their bottoms were covered in red, throbbing marks.

Seemingly satisfied, Madame Beauvoir put the paddle down on the sofa. Neither of the girls dared to move. Belinda felt a blissfully fresh hand on her bottom, inspecting the marks. She heard a grunt of satisfaction, and the landlady moved on to Alice. Belinda heard her gasp. “Well well, Alice,” Mme Beauvoir said, “It seems you didn’t hate that as much as I thought…” Alice closed her eyes and buried her face in the sofa, blushing as hard as one could. Standing between the two punished girls, the landlady slapped both their bottoms in unison with her open hands. They yelped.

“To the corner, girls!” she announced, and they both got up without protestation. “Take your trousers fully off,” Mme Beauvoir continued. Again, they said nothing, sliding their trousers over their shoes and leaving them on the back of the sofa. They made their way to the corner and Alice put her hands over her head. Belinda looked back at the landlady, who gave a sharp nod towards the French girl. Belinda put her arm over her head as well.

They heard the sound of the paddle being hooked back in the closet, and the door being locked. Madame Beauvoir walked around the flat, commenting on the mess, the dirty dishes, the recycling that needed to come down. She opened Belinda’s room’s door, and from the gasp, she wasn’t happy about it. Mercifully, she said nothing and carried on. Both girls could feel their bottom burning, and wanted nothing more than to rub it, dance around to ease the pain, but they didn’t dare, for fear more punishment would come their way. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the front door opened and closed.

For a full five minutes, neither of the girls moved, not wanting to tempt fate. Finally, Belinda took a deep breath and looked back.

“I think she’s gone…” she said

“Shhhh!” came the reply, “Don’t!! My butt is bruised enough already…”

They waited another five minutes, just to be on the safe side, then finally put their arms down and rubbed their crimson bottoms with little cried of pain and big sighs of relief.

“I have some lotion in my room if you want,” said Belinda, shyly.

“I think you’ve done enough, quite frankly!” said Alice.

“Alice, I’m sorry…” the German girl said, biting her lip, “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble…”

“And yet!…”

Belinda said nothing, still rubbing her round bottom.

“What will you do?” she asked, finally.

“About what?”

“Well, you said we would have a talk…”

“Oh!” said Alice with a grin, “Well, first, I’m going to figure out how to unlock that closet!”

Ach, scheiße…” whispered Belinda.

A Tropical Vacation

“NeuNunDNeUnZig LuFtBaLlons!…”

The shrill voice of an intoxicated Belinda Krüger blared through the bar’s speakers. After the pandemic had ended, the young German blonde had decided that she needed a vacation, and what better vacation than a paradise island, white sandy beaches and happy hour cocktail nights?

She’d packed her bag, mostly bikinis and beach towels, all in the colours of the German flag. She found that it was always a great conversation starter when she was abroad, and she liked meeting new people… even though it often ended up with her bottom a burning, bright red. She didn’t really know why, but it was the way these things went. Thinking about it, she had also packed a few bottles of lotion, just in case…

That night, much to her delight, was Karaoke night at the bar she had found herself frequenting. The place was nice, the drinks cheap and well mixed. There was a stage where concerts, lectures, improv had happened before, and where the singers were that night. Well, singer, singular. With most patrons busy drinking and socialising, she was already on her third song. More than a few drinks in, she had started badly, and it wasn’t getting any better.

“Auf iHrEm WeG zUm HoRiZOnt!…”

She continued belting out the words, out of tune and slightly behind on the music. In her drunk ears, it sounded perfect, and she bellowed the lyrics in what she thought was a sultry singer’s voice. More and more patrons were looking at her, frowning. Some were shaking their heads, some wincing and covering their ears. Even the barmen and barmaids were rising an eyebrow. With drunk tourists coming around every Karaoke night, they should have been used to it, but she was particularly bad. Belinda turned around and started wiggling her bikini-clad round buttocks while the song played on, oblivious to the increasingly disapproving crowd.

As she was about to start butchering the third verse, a man got up to her. An athletic, mid-thirties guy, he was only wearing knee-long shorts and sandals, with a lei, a flower garland, covering his muscular chest. Not bad looking, Belinda thought, looking over her shoulder as he came closer. Eastern European, maybe? Maybe Russian? In a heavily accented English, he said:

“I think it’s time you stop!”

Definitely Russian. She ignored him and carried on singing and waggling her derrière enticingly. What was he going to do, huh? She laughed and jumbled the next words in the song.

“Hey! Devochka! I’m talking to you!” the man said, and she made a show of ignoring him. The man banged his glass down on a nearby table and leapt on stage, going for her microphone. She splashed the drink she was holding in his face, and it went all over the flower garland. If she was hoping it would stop him, she was very wrong. With a grunt, he grabbed the microphone in one hand and her arm in the other.

“Oh you like singing, da? I have a song for you!”

Frowning, he dragged a stool over with his foot and sat down, still on stage, bringing her down over his knees in one swift movement. The music was still playing.

Was?” Belinda cried, “What are you doing?! Hör auf! Stop!”

Nyet!” was the only response as his hand came slamming down on her ass, over the German-coloured bikini bottoms. She yelled, in anger, surprise, and in pain. How dare he! He was ruining the song! In her drunken state, she hadn’t registered yet that everybody in the bar had stopped their conversation and were staring at them.

Slap! Slap! Slap!, the man started smacking her bottom to the rhythm of the song. She could see the metronome on screen counting 193 bpm. A few seconds in and her bottom was already burning. AUTSCH! she yelled, “Stop! Mein Popo!”

“Sing, then, little njémka! What are the lyrics again?”, the Russian man laughed, and he mockingly started singing “Ninety nine red bottoms… Spanked in the summer bar!”

The slap continued, and so did the song, “Ninety-nine slaps of the hand… For a very drunk German!”

Somehow, the bad rhyme worked in his accent. Slap! Slap! Slap!, he didn’t miss a beat. She bit her lip not to cry out in pain. Someone from the public yelled:

“Ninety-nine well spanked buttocks… I like my whisky on the rocks!”

The whole bar erupted in laughter, and tears of pain streamed down Belinda’s cheeks. Her drunken haze was clearing out fast, and her bottom burned with pain. Another patron came to the stage and grabbed the microphone:

“Ninety-nine bad girls in town… Let’s pull her bikini down!” he sang with a grin.

More laughter, and the microphone got passed around as the Russian man grabbed her bikini bottoms and pulled them down to her thighs. “Nein! Nein! Das kannst du nicht machen! You can’t!” Belinda yelled, and tried to get them back up, or at least cover herself, but there was nothing she could do and the slaps fell harder on her naked cheeks. Crimson as they were, they were only getting redder by the minute. More people joined in the song:

“Ninety-nine smacks, that’s quite rough… But I don’t think she’s had enough!”

Laughs and appreciative whistling, more hard slaps on her bottom. People were holding their phone up, filming the whole thing. Someone pushed a button on the Karaoke machine and the song started playing again from the start. “Ach du großer Gott!”, Belinda moaned.

“Ninety-nine hard slaps and more… I think she needs an encore!” sang a woman. Slaps hit Belinda’s thighs and made her cry out. She kicked her legs, but it only made her round cheeks wiggle more, much to the delight of the audience. There were cheers and laughs as they bounced and wobbled with each slap, the noise blending with the music.

“Ninety-nine slaps on her butt… That’ll teach that German slut!” sang a young local that she had been flirting with earlier. Again and again, the Russian man’s big hands fell down on her ass. It would be bruised for days, she thought! And she only had bikinis to wear… Even if she went to a different part of the island, there would be no way to hide her shame… And with the videos being filmed, or even livestreamed, even people at home might see… “Ach, scheiße…”, she murmured…

“Ninety-nine smacks on her ass… Serves her well, that cheeky lass!” said an Irishman next, and on and on it went, people having the time of their life while her bottom was thoroughly punished, and her dignity reduced to nothing.

After the song was played a third time, she was sobbing and begging, and the Russian man took pity on her at last. But her ordeal was far from over. Lifting her up, he made her stand on stage, her hands over her head while people came up to take pictures and selfies next to her glowing red bottom. When the bar finally closed , she pulled her bikini bottoms up and ran into the night and to her hotel. Once in her room, she was glad to have packed lotion. Once more, she would have to sleep on her belly. And in her head, she could still hear the song…

Denkst du vielleicht grad an mich?
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
…”

Disappointed

Her bottom hurt. It burned, it throbbed, and she didn’t dare look at it. She could imagine how bright red it was, and her Mistress’ handprints all over it. She moaned as she felt a hand grabbing her tender butt-cheek.

“Are we starting to learn, Nelly?” said a calm, sensual voice. The hand squeezed.

“Y-Yes, Mistress…” Nelly answered.

“You disappointed me…” the voice said again, and a hard slap landed on her burning ass.

She yelped and more tears streamed down her face. “I’m sorry!” she sobbed

“I’m sorry Mistress” came the reply, two more slaps punctuating it.

“Yes! Yes! Mistress! I’m sorry, M-Mistress! I’m sorry, Mistress!”

Nelly was standing up, her hands against the wall. Her little summer dress had been pulled up and rested on her hips, with her simple white panties down to her knees. Her legs trembled and for a second, she considered begging her Mistress to stop. She knew better, and she buried the idea as fresh pain exploded in her rear. Her Mistress was disappointed. Not mad, disappointed. Her Mistress never got mad, and she loved her for it. But she had high expectation, and Nelly knew she was far from perfect. Far from good, even.

More slaps. More pain. More tears. Sobs, moans, yelps, and the sweet voice of her Mistress scolding her. It felt right. It was right. It was what she deserved.

“You had one simple task today, Nelly…”

“Yes, Mistress…”

“And you didn’t even start on it…”

“I’m sorry, Mistress…”

“How do you think it’s making me feel, Nelly?”

“I… S-sad, Mistress? Disappointed in your little slut?”

“Never again, you hear me?”

“Never, Mistress…”

The longer it went on, the better she felt. She would do it. She would make her Mistress proud. Her bottom hurt. It burned, it throbbed, and she didn’t dare look at it, but she didn’t care. The only thing that was really painful was the disappointment in her Mistress’ eyes.

Company Policy

To be honest, Lana had fantasised about that moment. She had dreamt of it; she had imagined how it would play out. So when the day came, she was beyond ready. It started with a very polite smile and one simple sentence:

‘Oh but ma’am, I am the manager.’

That stopped the harpy in her tirade. The coupons were strewn on the counter. The superior air was instantly deflated, and the older, short-haired, haughty woman started to stutter.

‘Wh-wh-what?’ she said, eyeing 22-year-old Lana up and down, ‘Don’t… Don’t lie to me, you stroppy brat!’

Still smiling, Lana slammed her ID badge on the counter, hard enough to make the woman flinch and look at her, worried. The woman hummed and hawed, looking at the ID with wide eyes. It clearly stated Manager in bold, red letters.

‘So,’ Lana begun, ‘like I said, we don’t accept expired coupons.’

The woman huffed. ‘Typical…’ she muttered, ‘You young people have everything handed to you…’

Lana pointed to a sign taped to the till that read ‘Staff abuse will not be tolerated’.

‘I suggest you stop, ma’am, or I will be forced to take action.’ she said, simply, pleasantly, never dropping the smile.

‘Or what?’ the older woman snapped, ‘You’ll force me to listen to another of the horrible songs that always play in here? Probably your boyfriend’s shitty band!’ She looked around at the few other clients in the store, hoping for support. All she got were raised eyebrows and shaking heads. Undeterred, she continued ranting.

‘I’m not surprised there are so few clients anyway, with such poor service, and your shitty attitude! Young people shouldn’t be in charge, they always mess it up! You should be ashamed!’

Lana walked around the counter. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave, ma’am…’

‘You can ask all you want, you little trollop! The customer is always right! Don’t you know the first thing about following store policies?’

Lana pointed to the sign again. She tapped the small prints.

‘Oh I do; in fact I was hoping you would bring it up. Look here: per company policy, any abuse will be met with corporal punishment.’

The woman blanched, and probably for the first time in her life, fell silent. It lasted a few delicious heartbeats, during which Lana’s smile only grew wider.

‘You… You can’t!…’ the woman tried.

‘Sorry ma’am,’ Lana said with relish, ‘it’s company policy!’

Without giving the woman time to argue, Lana grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to a chair that lay innocently in a corner by the counter. Having dreamt so much about it, she felt like she was just performing a role she had rehearsed many times before. Stunned, the woman only started to resist too late to change the outcome.

Lana liked to finish her day with a workout, and she was much stronger than the Karen in her grasp. Sitting down, she forced the tyrant over her lap and wasted no time in landing the first hard slap over her tight jeans. The woman screamed.

The few other customers in the shop didn’t move a single muscle to help her, and more slaps rained down, sharp and loud. The woman pleaded. She screamed more. She threatened. Nothing made Lana stop. Again and again, she slapped the woman’s ass. For an older woman, it was quite firm, shapely, bouncy. Truth be told, Lana was enjoying this immensely.

The threats slowly turned to sobs, pitiful and quiet, until Lana grabbed the jean’s waistband and started to pull down.

‘No!’ the woman pleaded with what was left of her defiance. ‘Not on the bare! People… people will see!’

‘You had no problem with people being there when you were yelling at me, did you?’

The woman said nothing.

‘You have no issue with witnesses when you humiliate store clerks, do you?

Still no answer, but the woman wriggled uncomfortably.

‘Now, I think you know that they’re coming down no matter what, so I’d advise you make it easier on yourself, ma’am….’ Lana said, menacingly.

With a defeated sigh, the woman reached for her jeans and managed to undo the button. With the woman’s jeans and white panties down to her thighs, Lana could finally admire the results of her handiwork. The round buttocks were already a dark pink, and the trembling woman had given up all hope of resisting what was to come.

The other client had long ago stopped browsing, and only pretended to look at the merchandise on offer, instead darting eyes over to the scene playing out. The smiles and nods were all the encouragement Lana needed to raise her hand once more.

With a loud SMACK!, she sent the bottom wobbling again, and the conceited woman cried out once more. More slaps came down, leaving marks and prints every time, turning the arrogant ass a bright crimson. Tears were running down the woman’s cheeks, and she was mumbling apologies in a tearful voice.

Lana continued spanking her for long, humiliating minutes, until the woman’s ass was red throughout and burning to the touch. The tears had not stopped rolling, and the sobs were a pleasant music to her ears. Then she spanked her some more, until at last she was satisfied.

None too gently, she got the woman up and dragged her to a corner of the shop. The woman kept her head down and didn’t protest. When Lana told her to put her hands on her head, she obeyed. Her jeans stayed down; so did her panties. In the following hours, the store got busier than it had ever been, as clients seemed to come in but not leave. In fact, most of them seemed to find every article in the store very interesting and made a point of checking each an every one of them in detail. As she prepared to close the store down, she tapped the woman’s shoulder and pointed to the door. With a sigh and a shameful nod, the woman pulled her jeans up and ran away.

Generational issues

“But mum!!” the girl yelled, “I’m twenty-two! You can’t— OWW!!”

Holding her daughter over her knees, the mum in question kept spanking hard.

“We’re on— OWW! Mum! We’re on lockdown! Oww! Oww!” the daughter tried again.

“And that’s no reason to be lazy, Janice!” the mother exclaimed.

“Mum, please!”

“As long as you live under my roof, young lady…”

“Yes! Yes! Your rules, I kn— OWWW! I know, mum but PLEASE!”

The slaps kept coming, sharp and biting. Her panties were long gone, down to her knees.

“When was your sociology class?”

“Ye- Ow! Yesterday…” the girl managed between to sharp intakes of breath.

“And what about Economics?”

“Mon… Ow! Oww! Owwww! Monday, mum, please, please stop!” she begged again.

“So you haven’t been to school, your bedroom is a mess, you haven’t showered, all you do is lay in bed all day, on your computer and your phone!”

Her mother shook her head, peppering Janice’s bare bottom with hard slaps.

“I know! Mum! I’m sorry! And I’ve had classes! It’s all on the computer!”

“Classes on the computer? Are you lying again?” the mother said, outraged.

“No, mum, I… OWW! I promise!”

Tears were rolling down her blushing cheeks. Her mother shook her head.

“I don’t think there are classes on the computer. I’ve never heard of that. Classes need their teacher.”

“No, mum, please… Please stop, listen! It’s— Owwww! It’s like a video-ow-ow-owww! A video-call! Please!”

“Stop your nonsense! You will go to your classes!”

“But mum! We’re in lockdown! Oww!”

“Schools are open! I’ve read it in the papers!”

“But this OWW! It’s Uni, mum! It’s on the comp—”

“Don’t tell me it’s on the computer again or I’ll go get the paddle!”

“But mum…”

The Dance – part two

Read part one here

Cindy pressed her round bottom against her locker, pushed her chest up and bat her eyelashes at Brad as he came down the corridor. The spaghetti top and tight, short denim shorts she was wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination and accentuated her round hips and full breasts.

“Heyyy, Brad…” she purred, “I heard Susanna cancelled on your for the dance… That’s too bad…”

Brad came to a stop in front of her and put let his rucksack down on the floor. Taller than she was, lean and toned, his hair cropped on one side, he was everything that that made her bite her lips with desire. She often thought of him at night, alone in her bed, when her hands started to wander.

He stared. “Yeah… You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you Cind?” he said.

“Me?” she said in her most innocent voice, “Why would I do that?”

“I heard you were pretty pissed at her…”

“Oh yeah? Who told you that?!”

“It doesn’t matter who. Did you do it?”

“Do what?” She raise an eyebrow.

Brad put his hands on his hips and frowned.

“You know what!”

“No!” she pretended “I don’t.”

He blushed and continued in a hushed tone, looking up and down the corridor.

“You spanked her? What’s wrong with you?”

She laughed. “What? Who told you that?”

“it doesn’t matter who told me!”

“I never… spanked… her. What the fuck, Brad? Are you a pervert or something?

“What?”

“That’s your fetish, huh? Girls spanking each other?”

“What? No! I…”

“Oh I’m sure it is… Naughty, naughty girls getting punished… Is that what you like, Brad?” she smiled wider while he blushed.

“You’ve got issues, Cind…” he muttered

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it? Are you going to take me to the dance or what?”

He took his bag from the floor and grabbed Cindy by the wrist, not too gently.

“Come on, not here,” he said, and pulled her towards and empty classroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked, half smiling, half panicking. Maybe she had taken it a little too far? Surely not. She knew how boys thought, manipulating them was one of her favourite things. A little teasing, a little waving her hips around, and she had them wrapped around her finger.

He closed the door behind them as they entered the empty classroom and let go of her wrist.

“Well?” she asked, hiding her misgivings behind another grin.

“I know you did spank Susanna, and don’t you even dare deny it!”

She shrugged, “Yeah, and? That slut shouldn’t have been strutting around, that’s all…”

“Don’t call her that!”

“What? A slut? I call a piggy a piggy, that’s all!”

“All right, that’s enough,” he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the nearest chair, “You think you can spank someone just because you don’t like them? Well I’ll show you how that feels.”

He sat down and swiftly bend her over his knees.

“Hey! No! Stop!” she yelped, but he didn’t listen. Without another word, he raised his hand and smacked her bottom, a loud, painful slap that immediately made her eyes water in surprise, pain, and delicious shame. Not wasting a second, another slap fell, and another, and another until the sound of them filled the room in a steady rhythm punctuated by whining, barely contained cries. She kicked her legs

“Brad!…” she pleaded, tears rolling down her cheeks. This wasn’t going as planned, not at all. “Brad, please!…”

Unmoved, he continued to rain spanks over her round, denim-clad bottom. Already he could see her sit spots turning a satisfying red. After a dozen more slaps, he grabbed the waistband of her shorts and dragged them down, panties and all, to her knees despite her outraged protest.

“No! No! Stop! You can’t!”

“Did you give Susanna a choice?”

“No but… Please! I’m sorry, all right! You can go with that bitch, I don’t —OWWW!”

“Don’t call her that,” he said, punctuating each syllable with a hard, painful slap on her now naked bottom. As he kept on spanking and smacking her round, bouncing bottom, her shorts and panties fell further down her legs until they were at her ankles, then on the floor. All the whiles, her tears were flowing openly, her cries getting more desperate.

“Braaad! Please! I beg you! I’m sorryyy! Please! Please! Someone will come! Someone will see…”

“Did you think of that when you were doing it to Susanna?”

The slaps were getting harder and harder. Cindy was sobbing, bawling, unable to articulate her begging anymore. Finally, satisfied, he relented. His hand resting on her burning, bruised cheeks, he said, “If I hear that you said anything to Susanna, if I hear you’ve been anywhere near her, I promise you you’ll end up in the same position for round two. Is that clear?”

She sniffed, “Y-yessir…”

All the while, shaking from the sobs, the pain, the humiliation, and the scolding, she was thinking. Only three people knew what she had really done the day before. Only three people knew that she’s spanked Susanna on the bare. Three people: herself, Susanna of course —but she wouldn’t have dare admit it to Brad— and Abi. That bitch Abi. She had told Brad, she was sure of it. That. Bitch.

She was going to pay.

Sneaking Out

Simple enough, Lilah figured, to just climb back up the side of the house by the pipe and get back in. It was the way she’d gotten out of the house once her father was asleep, and it was how  the teenage girl would got back inside and pretend she’d been asleep and in bed the whole night when the sun rose.

So, she made her way up. She was only 5’2 and her height didn’t help her in the slightest, but it wasn’t exactly difficult to climb up either. What she had to be most mindful of was noise. If she woke him up now, she’d be done for.

She got back inside through the bedroom window with seemingly no fuss, and after shutting the window quietly behind her, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

With a heavy sigh, Michael, her adoptive father, fully opened the bedroom door behind which he had been standing and turned the light on. He’d been waiting, anxious, angry, worried, furious.

Lilah, his adoptive daughter, was… complicated. Draining. His pride and joy. A real brat.

Sometimes, he didn’t know what to do with her. But it usually ended with her apologising through her tears, her bottom a dark crimson. Tonight might be one of those.

He glared.

“Well? Anything to say?” he said.

“Daddy!” She smiled, fakely, nervously, and began putting on her ‘I’m just a little kid, don’t be mad at me!’ voice, even though she was far from being one anymore.

“I was just going outside to see the stars! What are you doing in here?”

“I’ve been waiting, Lilah,” he growled, “I’ve been waiting for hours. I’m sure you’ve seen many stars on this overcast night…”

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Do you want to try that again?” he continued.

“Well, y’know, um, I went for a walk to see if I could see them anywhere. Like, around the clouds you know?” Shit. He was totally on her trail, and that was bad.  “Buuut I really should be going to bed now, so-“

He raises an eyebrow

“For three hours, huh?” he shook his head, “Lilah, I think you know better than to lie to me, don’t you? It’s bad enough that you disobey, it’s bad enough that I was worried sick, don’t lie to me on top of it!” His voice was getting louder and louder as he went. She winced at that. It was always a sign that he was getting fed up, and perhaps it was better to just come clean… though she hated it when her adoptive father was cross with her.

“U-um… I went to Emi’s house because they were having hum… a ‘get together’.” She explained, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Honest, That’s where I was…”

He sighed. “A get together, huh? Just hanging out, sipping orange juice? Yes?”

He closed the bedroom door behind him with and ominous ‘clank’.

“I-it was really just a couple of close friends!” she said, backing up when he closed the door. She wished he would just leave her alone to go bed, but the chance of that happening seemed smaller and smaller.

“I swear daddy, it was just like, six of us, and we only had like, soda and stuff! Really! You can smell my breath if you want, I wasn’t drinking!”

“Soda and stuff” he said, dismissively, “Oh, Lilah… Why… Why do you keep doing this? Do I not treat you well? Are you really so fed up with your old man that you simply don’t care? Is that it? Because frankly, I can’t see why you’re doing this…”

He shook his head again.

“You know what needs to happen now, don’t you?” he said again.

“No! Dad, I just- I just wanted to go and you said I couldn’t but… I should be able to! It’s not fair!”

Her friends always got to hang out no problems, and Lilah was always stuck getting told no, or negotiating with the stern older man.

However, she could predict his next move. “A-and I won’t do it again! I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told you…”

“I said you couldn’t. And you still did, didn’t you?” he asked, his tone ice-cold. He went and sat on the bed

“Now, I’ll ask you again, Lilah… What’s going to happen?”

He rolled up his sleeves, keeping his gaze on her.

The teen whimpered, and tears gathered in her eyes at the prospect of having to go over his knee or over anything to be smacked. Not again…

“Y-you’re going to spank me- please don’t spank me, dad, please-!” She whined, backing up to the wall. “I-I’m 17! I’m too old for that! I just wanted to go with my friends, you’re being unfair!”

“If you behaved, there would be no need for a spanking. And if you behaved, I would be more inclined to let you hang out, as you put it” he said, and gestured her over. “Come nicely, own up to it and it will be over soon, all right? The more you argue, the worse it’ll get, you know that…”

“Daaad…” she whined again, seeing that he wasn’t going easy on her. “I’m sorry, I know I made you worry, but I didn’t mean to!”

Still, she knew how his rules were, and she slowly came to stand in front of him. “I’ll behave from now on, I promise…”

He closed his eyes and sighed “Now where have I heard that before?”

He smiled, sadly “I believe you, my little butterfly…” he said, “But I’m not letting you get away with it. You need to learn.”

He pointed to her worn-out jeans and said:

“Take them off”

Her face was blushing bright red at the prospect of being this age and still being subjected to a spanking, but at this point, there really was no getting out of it, was there?

“Yes sir…” she murmured, a tear running down her cheek. When she’d been adopted, she’d never expected this, and every time It happened, she always swore it never would again, but it always did. She undid the button and pushed the trousers down to her knees, thoroughly mortified.

“What are…” he started, seeing the lacy, pale pink panties that she was wearing. He blushed. “You know what, I don’t want to know…”

She wasn’t even sure how to explain that one had to wear sexy panties when they went to hang out with friends and their boyfriend of course, because what if things had gone further? That night, Lilah was glad that they hadn’t.

He took her wrist and gently brought her down over his lap.

Sometimes, he forgot how grown up she was now. Even if she ended up on his lap with her bottom bared more often than her card to remember, she was nearly an adult now. Where had the time gone?

He cleared his throat.

“This could have been avoided, you know. All you had to do was stay in your bed, be on your phone, anything… But you had to disobey…”

He wanted to scold her, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Let’s get this over with…” he said, finally.

With a loud SLAP!, he let the first blow fall on her barely covered bottom

“You never let me hang out with my friends!” She whined, a tear already falling from her eye. She always felt horribly guilty in this position. “You’re being unfair daddy!!”

The slaps keep coming, one cheek, the other, hard, fast. SLAP! SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

“I am not! Other kids have earned the right to go out unsupervised! I can’t say you have…”

SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  the hand keeps falling, quickly turning the pale white of her cheeks a pale pink, then to red.

“Again and again you disobey!”

“Daddy!!” Lilah yelped, whimpered, gasped and cried out in pain, and still the hand was relentless. It hurt badly, so badly that she couldn’t help but bury her face in her hands and sob.

She’d only disobeyed because she felt he was always so unreasonable with her! He couldn’t control her forever, she was practically an adult! Or so she thought, at least…

“I’ll be good! I’m sorrryyy!” she sobbed.

After a dozen more hard slaps, he paused. Her bottom felt burning to the touch and he knew that there was a very wet patch of duvet where she’s been burying her head to muffle her screams and sobs.

“I really want to believe that you are, my butterfly… I really, really do…”

Still, he grabbed the waistband of her lacy underwear…

“Daddy no! P-Please!” She rarely ever referred to him as such anymore, and for her to be doing it so frequently meant she was truly upset.

Her hand flew back next to his, also taking a firm hold on the waistband to keep it pulled up over her cheeks. “I promise, daddy, I swear! Please, please not on the bare. I’ll never leave the house again! Please!”

“I…” he hesitated “Maybe you are a little old for that…” he said, unsure. He could feel his cheeks blushing. Taking her hand off the undies, he wedged them up instead of pulling them down, revealing her burning red globes but leaving her intimacy covered.

Swiftly, the slaps began raining down again, harder now, intent on giving her a proper lesson.

“I do hope you will obey, Lilah.. I do…”

Lilah could swear that her skin was raw, and possibly even starting to bruise. She felt she had a good pain tolerance but this… this was all too painful and not to mention, humiliating. It was embarrassing to be put over his knee like she was still a little girl!

“I will!” She whimpered, tears dripping from her face onto the bedsheets her head was above. “I’ll be good! I’ll obey, I w-will! No more, please n-no more!” Her legs kicked somewhat involuntary, and her hands gripped tight onto his pant leg.

With a loud, harsh final SLAP!, he let her catch her breath and gently stroked her hair as she sobbed quietly.

“There, there… It’s over now… It’s over…”

He helped her up and sat her on the bed next to him.

“I love you, my sweet butterfly…” he said with a sad smile, and offered his arms to her, hoping she would forgive the pain and hold him like she used to when he’d first adopted her.

“H-hurts…” Lilah cried, her hands under her to rub gingerly at her sore, abused cheeks. Heat radiated off them, and she fell into his arms. If he was going to spank her like a child, then she’d accept the comfort that came with it.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered

He held her tight and stoked her hair.

“I know, butterfly, I know…”

He closed his eyes and sighed

“Daddy’s here, it’s all going to be all right…”

This story was written in collaboration with Lia 🙂

The Dance – part one

‘WHERE IS SHE?’ Cindy roared as she entered the communal area of her college dorm, ‘Where is that fat German slut?’

Her friend, Abi, came to her, puzzled. ‘Cind,’ she said, ‘what are you talking about?’

‘The German brat! yelled Cindy, ‘That girl that joined at the start of the year!’

‘You mean Susanna?’, asked Abi.

‘Yes! That kraut slut!’

‘Hum, I think she’s in the study ro—’

Cindy was already running towards the room. She all but kicked the door and stared at Susanna, who had nearly jumped out of her chair, her book falling down to the floor.

‘There you are!’ said Cindy, triumphally. She planted her hands on her hips.

‘J-ja? Here I am? W-why?’ said the plump German student, readjusting her glasses on her nose.

Cindy crossed her arms. ‘You fat slut, you know why!’

Susanna looked more puzzled than ever. ‘W-what? How am I a… a s-slut?’ she mumbled.

‘Well it’s obvious! With your big tits always showing and your nerdy glasses, I’ve seen how you strut around! I bet you’ve been giving all the boys BJs in the toilets as well. That’s it, isn’t it? Is that your big fantasy? Coming abroad and fucking as many men as you can?’

‘Was? Nein! No! I never did any of this!’ said the German, blushing hard.

‘Yes you did! There’s no way Brad would go to the Dance with you otherwise!’

‘I… I… He just asked me if I wanted to go with him, und-and… I said I would, that’s it!’

‘Well Brad is not going to go with you, you disgusting pervert!’ yelled Cindy, ‘He’s gonna go with me.’ She closed the study-room’s door and continued, ‘And I’m gonna show you how we deal we German sluts around here…’

Rounding on Susanna, she grabbed her hair and forced her up. The exchange student yelped and Cindy took her place down on the chair, then pulled harder on her victim’s hair and forced her to lie over her knees.

‘Nein! What are you doing?!’ cried Susanna, finding herself very vulnerable all of a sudden, her bottom up in the air over the crazy blond girl’s lap. She had seen her lot of hazing and mean pranks since arriving from her homeland but that seemed entirely different.

Cindy’s hand fell down on her rump with a loud noise that made Susanna jump. A split second later, she registered the pain and whimpered. ‘Nein! No!’ Cindy didn’t let up, and spank after hard spank fell down on the German’s bottom, making them bounce and burn even through the jeans she was wearing. All the while, Cindy was scolding her, yelling invectives and accusing her of a whole spectrum of inappropriate acts. Tears welled up in Susanna’s eyes, and rolled down her cheeks as she tried to explain that she had never, would never do such things. Her English, ordinarily virtually flawless, was unravelling, and she found herself using more and more German as she sobbed.

After what felt like an eternity, Cindy forced her up again and grabbed Susanna’s jeans and started to undo the button. Stunned, Susanna barely resisted, rubbing her bottom and sniffling hard. ‘Bitte… Please, C-Cindy… Please… I… You can go mit Brad, I don’t mind. Es… Es tut mir leid… I’m sorry…’

Cindy sneered, ‘Least you can do is speak English, you stupid cow!’

‘I’m sorry!’ cried Susanna, feeling Cindy pulling her trousers and panties down to her mid-thighs. She didn’t even know what as happening anymore. All she knew is that her ass was on fire, and that she wanted to be back home, were people weren’t crazy. Cindy pulled her hair again and she found herself on the blond girl’s lap once more, her bottom naked and throbbing with pain.

The slaps came as she knew they would, hard, fast, utterly humiliating. She couldn’t stop the tears, she could barely articulate little ‘Neins’ in between all the sobs and sniffles. Thankfully, Cindy had stopped yelling, instead focusing on inflicting as much pain as possible to her victim, it seemed.

After a few more interminable minutes, the door of the study room opened, and she heard a gasp. Looking up, she saw one of the other girls —Abi, she thought— a horrified look on her face.

‘Cindy, what the fuck?’ the other girl said, ‘Stop it!’

‘It’s all that brat deserves,’ Cindy said with a merciless grin, and she slapped Susanna’s ample bottom once more, making it wobble while the girl cried out.

‘Stop it! You’re gonna get in trouble!’ Abi pleaded.

‘She won’t say anything, will you, Slut-anna?’

‘N-no, ma’am…’ the German girl managed between sobs.

‘See?’ Cindy said, still grinning.

‘Come on…’ Abi said.

Rolling her eyes, Cindy pushed Susanna off her lap and left with her friend, leaving the German girl sobbing on the floor and rubbing her burning hot bottom. They were all crazy, she decided, all of them. Should she tell Brad? The tall, muscular boy had seemed really nice, but it might have been a prank as well. She was lost. Truly, there was no place like home.