It’s a sunny Sunday morning, and Belinda Krüger, a baby-faced
blonde from Germany, is in her apartment, wearing nothing but a black
t-shirt, standing at her dining room table, eating her breakfast. Why is
she eating standing up? She’s way too sore to sit down. The night
before, her landlord, Juan Lopez, had spanked her most severely for
playing her music way too loudly in the middle of the night. After
drinking a bottle of dark German beer, Belinda goes back into her
bedroom, and lies down on her bed, on her stomach. She then places an
ice pack on her still burning bare buns, and turns on her tablet, hoping
to find something to watch, that will hopefully take her mind off of
how much pain she’s in.
Down the street, Dreama Bennett
was regretting going to Church. She had forgotten how painfully it was
to sit on a hard wooden pew, when you had been spanked just a few hours
before. Juan Lopez, had spanked her, too. Not nearly as severely as he
had Belinda, but he had definitely sat her ass on fire. Her buns were
still blazing, as red as a poisoned apple, and throbbing. She felt like
she was sitting on a hot plate. She braced her hands on the pew, and
raised her red hot rear into the air, just enough to keep it from
touching the pew. She held it there, until her right hand slipped, and
her plump posterior came crashing down, HARD, causing Dreama to shout,
“DAMN, THAT HURTS!”
Everybody in the Church, turned and
stared at her in shock. Her face burning even hotter than her bottom,
she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I… pulled a muscle in
my… my back yesterday. And it’s really hurting.”
Pastor
Owens gave Dreama a stern look that sent shivers down her spine. He had
noticed her squirming back and forth all morning, like she used to do
some Sunday mornings, before her late husband passed away. He always
assumed she had been disciplined by her husband, and was proud of him
for doing that. He believed sinners should be punished. He wondered who
had punished her this time, and why. “Dreama,”, he said, his voice, deep
and cold, “I would like to have a word with you after Church.”
OH NO! Was Pastor Owens going to have a “talk” with her? Sometimes he
told members of his flock, he needed to have a “talk” with them. Always
in private. Last year, he had a “talk” with her friend, Patty Mullins.
When Dreama asked her about that later, she told Dreama, “That talk left
a lasting impression on me.”, while rubbing her ample asscheeks. Was
she trying to imply that Pastor Owens had… SPANKED her? Yes, Dreama did
ask Juan to spank her, but the last thing she wanted right now was
ANOTHER spanking, with her bottom already on fire. She spent the rest of
the Church service, feeling like she did when she was a student back in
Texas, on her way to the principal’s office. Except then, her bottom
wasn’t burning until AFTER she left his office, not before.
It’s Sunday night, and Dreama and Belinda are both lying in their
beds, on their stomachs, their bare bottoms various shades of reds and
purples. Dreama was right about what a “talk” with Pastor Owens
entailed. After setting her ears ablaze with his fiery words, he took
her across his lap, bared her bottom, and sat her still sizzling seat on
fire, too. That spanking was because she had confessed she been spanked
by somebody other than her husband. There was no way she could had kept
that spanking a secret, with her rear as red as a barn door. Next, to
punish her for lying and cursing in Church, she was forced to bend
across his desk, while he removed a wooden paddle from a desk drawer. He
told her he called the paddle “A Taste Of Hellfire”. An apt name, after
he had paddled her with it, Dreama’s cherry red cheeks were hotter
than Hell. He then commanded her to sit, still bare-bottomed on a hard
wooden stool, he called “The Sinner’s Seat” and write one hundred times,
“I’ll never lie of use profanity in The House Of The Lord again.” That
was extremely painful, since he had paid extra attention to her “sit
spots” during her paddling. Finally finished with her lines, Pastor
Owens gave her a big hug, wiped her tears, and told her he loved her.
She walked home, thankful there was a cold wind blowing, she could feel
through her thin and now way too tight skirt.
Dreama
hadn’t sat down since she got back to her apartment, and had checked out
her blistered backside a thousand times in her hallway mirror. Her ass
was deep dark red, her “sit spots” purple. Reaching back, she gave her
throbbing rear a gentle caress, that caused her seat to sizzle. Reaching
into her nightstand, hoping to find a tube of Aloe Vera, she saw an
unopened pack of her late husband’s cigarettes. He had given up smoking,
because Pastor Owens said it was a sinful habit. She remembered the
time Pastor Owens saw Becky Miller had a pack of cigarettes in her
purse, when she was leaving the Church, after his sermon. He had asked
her to stay after everybody had left, to “talk” to her about that. The
next time Dreama saw Becky, she told her, “Pastor Owens showed me the
errors of my ways, I’m NEVER touching another cigarette.” Dreama knew
now, how Pastor Owens had convinced her to do that. PAINFULLY aware.
She dropped the cigarettes into a trash can by her bed. And then,
smiling deviously, she retrieved them. And slipped them into her purse.
The purse she planned to take with her the next time she went to Church.
Across the hall, Belinda’s big bottom was still burning. She had
tried to eat her dinner, sitting on top of a stack of cushy pillows, but
even that was painful, and she ate that meal standing up too. Now, she
was trying to ignore the pain in her posterior, and go to sleep, when
she remembered she was supposed to start her new job in the morning. AS A
BIKE MESSENGER! She sat the alarm on her phone, and cried herself to
sleep.
THE END
