No Pictures!

Belinda looked up to the entrance of the enormous building. It was definitely old, something out of the early 1800's perhaps and it looked like it hadn't had a proper renovation in over 50 years...
She looked at the foreign letters that were attached to the outer wall. She couldn't read it, but she knew out of the tourists' guide that it said: "Museum of Natural History".
She had just arrived in the small East-European country and the very first thing on her list of places she wanted to visit was the famous National Museum of Natural History, which had an enormous collection of fossils, skeletons and other fascinating things like that. It was something she had been interested in since her early childhood.

However, studying fossils in some dusty old museum was not her only reason for coming to the small country. She was secretly hoping to pick up one of the locals. The men in this country were legendary for their looks. A slight tan, a jaw line you could cut steel with and black, curly hair you could comb with your fingers for hours.
Especially for this occasion, Belinda was wearing a dirndl, a traditional dress worn by many other German women. She liked showing off her heritage and not only that, her cleavage did not leave much to the imagination. The dress was an eye-catcher for sure.

She walked up the steps and entered the museum. She looked around. A small group of tourists had gathered around what seemed to be a tour guide. She was in luck. Apparently a museum tour was just about to start. She joined the group and the tour guide started the tour. She took them past all sorts of exhibitions. There was an exhibition about the local birdlife, an exhibition about the Neanderthalers that used to live in this area, there was even an enormous skeleton of a dinosaur on display. Belinda wondered how such a small country could even fund such an impressive museum like this.
Her eye fell on something else. It appeared to be some sort of warning sign, but she couldn't read the foreign language it was written in. There were two symbols on it as well, one made more sense to her than the other. One was a pictogram of a photo camera, crossed through with a big red line and encircled with a red ring. No pictures, that was obvious. The other one was a pictogram of what seemed to be an open hand, also encircled with a red ring. No touching? That would be logical. She just wished she could read the language so she would be sure.

As the tour progressed, Belinda beheld more and more amazing things, things she didn't see at museums at home. Huge crystals that were apparently dug up from a local quarry, fossils of creatures she never even heard of and so on and so on. She couldn't understand anything of what the tour guide was saying, but the exhibitions spoke for themselves.
Belinda started to feel her cell phone burning in her pocket. She desperately wanted to make pictures of the things she saw, to show at home to her friends and family, but the sign was very clear: No pictures. And she didn't exactly want to get in trouble on her first day here.
She tried to resist the urge to whip her phone out and make pictures of everything, but the urge was too strong. If I keep my camera low, she thought, maybe the guide won't notice it anyway.
Belinda aimed her camera carefully at a chunk of amethyst that was on display and pressed the button.

FLASH!

All the heads of the tourists in the group, and the head of the tourguide turned her way.
Shit. She forgot to turn her flash off.
A few tourists were giggling but the head of the tour guide seemed to turn redder by the second. She came storming towards Belinda, yelling at her in the foreign language she could not understand and pointed at the sign with the photo camera.
Belinda tried to reason with her: "I am sorry, I am so sorry. Look, there doesn't have to be a problem here. I can just remove the picture. Here, see?"
But the tour guide understood as much as Belinda understood her and kept yelling at her. Suddenly she grabbed a walkietalkie from her belt and started to converse with someone.
"You are really in for it now," one of the tourists said. He sounded American.
"W-what do you mean? It isn't that big of a deal, right?" Belinda asked him.
"You mean you don't know how they enforce the law over here? Oh boy..."

Belinda wanted to ask further about what was going to happen, but all of a sudden her arm got grabbed by a strong hand and she got yanked away from the group. A few meters further Belinda and the tour guide stopped.
She started to talk to her again in the strange language, but this time it wasn't yelling. It sounded more like she was scolding her, like an upset mom does with her child.
"I-I am sorry," Belinda tried to say, "It isn't such a big deal, right? Right?"
The tour guide just sighed and turned Belinda around.
Before Belinda had the chance to ask what the hell she was doing, she felt the tour guide's hands going under her dress and she felt them grip onto the waistband of her panties.
"Wha..what are you..." Belinda stuttered.
She felt her panties getting dragged down her thighs and fall down around her ankles. Belinda was baffled by the events.
The tour guide then proceeded to pull her dress aside so that Belinda's bottom was on full display. She felt her cheeks starting to burn bright. She couldn't see them because she had her back turned to them, but she was sure the group of tourists were no longer feasting their eyes on the exhibitions...

Out of nowhere she felt the slap landing on her right butt cheek. "OW," she yelled, but more out of surprise than out of pain.
Then another stroke hit the surface of her left butt cheek. This one actually stung.
Then another one followed, and other one, and another one. The tour guide landed blow after blow on the poor German girl's bottom.
Belinda started to plead and beg, but even if the woman disciplining her could understand her, she probably wouldn't have backed down anyway. Time after time she felt the guide's firm hand landing on her buttocks. The cheeks on here face were not the only cheeks that were burning bright by now. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started to plead and beg even more. She desperately clung to the railing and clenched her fists hoping to ease the pain, but it was no use. She started fidgeting to get loose but the guide just tightened her grip around Belinda's waist even more.
Never had Belinda felt more vulnerable and embarassed. Her face was a mess, her makeup was all over and the tears flowed freely over her cheeks. And the strokes just wouldn't stop. The tour guide knew what she was doing, because her bottom appeared to be on fire by now.
Behind her back she could hear the crowd of tourists talking.
"Dude, what are you waiting for? Take a picture already!"
"I told her so..."
"See, Lisa, this is what happens to little girls who are bad..."
Belinda never felt more humiliated as in this very moment.

And, just as soon as it had started, it ended. Suddenly the grip around her waist was gone, and her buttocks finally felt the cool air around her. Once again she got grabbed by the arm and turned around to face the tour guide. She scolded her a bit more. Belinda's hand reluctantly left the satisfying feeling of rubbing her bottom. The tour guide walked off and gestured the group to follow her once more.