A Trouble at a Bar

“Oh, mensch, this music sucks!” Belinda said, yawing drunk. This nightclub was quite expensive, and she spent here about few hours, dancing and drinking, looking for some handsome guy to flirt. This evening she was herself. Her usual loud and obnoxious self. “This kind of place makes me want to puke. I need a real drink to cope with the electronic music and robotic people!” she reached for a glass of whiskey.

Suddenly Belinda heard a strict female voice.

“I think you had a real drink already, young lady.” a tall brown-haired woman came close to the blonde. “You’d better to behave yourself, if you don’t want to get into a big trouble.”

The last thing Belinda wanted that night was to being lectured by some stranger.

“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, BITCH!” she screamed and threw her drink on the woman, ruining her dress.

“This nightclub IS my business, I own it.” the furious woman said as she pulled Belinda across her lap. “You, young lady, have no idea how to act in a sophisticated establishment. Apparently no one has ever tried to teach you any manners. But I’ll be happy to. Let this be your first lesson.” The lady in red, Morgana, begun to spank Belinda’s big bottom, first over her jeans, then on her panties, and finally on her bare bottom, in front of the cheering bar patrons, until Belinda was howling and pleading for mercy. “No yet, my child,” the dark haired beauty said, smirking sinisterly, “Not until your backside is as red as this dress you just ruined.” Shaking her hand, Morgana turned to the bartender, “Nigel, my hand is beginning to get sore, could you be a dear, and run into my office and grab my hairbrush off of my desk? The large oval one.”

Nigel returned, smiling like the Cheshire Cat, and handed his boss the heavy hairbrush, that she quickly put to good use. True to her word, she didn’t release Belinda until her posterior was candy apple red, burning and blistered. After watching the German brat dance around in circles, her hands gently caressing her deep fried fanny, tears streaming down her cheeks, Morgana handed Belinda her panties back, telling her, “You can have these back, but since you ruined my dress, I’m keeping your pants.”

Belinda yelped, struggling to slip back into her panties, panties that felt two sizes too small now, and looked tearfully at the raven haired woman, “But I can’t go home like THiS, in just my underwear.”

“That’s not my problem, I have a bar to run. Bruno, please escort this brat out of my bar.”

Bruno, a bear of a man, easily lifted Belinda up, and slung her across his shoulder, and marched to the bar’s exit, while everybody in the bar gave him a loud round of applause. Heaving her out of the door, Belinda landed with a LOUD thud on her well punished posterior, before running off into the night, trying in vain to cover her glowing glutes with her tiny hands.