Blistered at the Bank

The bawling blonde, pleading for mercy, shouted, “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!”
   Gently tapping a wooden ruler on the blonde’s big bottom, currently the same shade as an Arizonan sunrise, her boss at the bank, a full figured redhead, with eyes as green as a Irish glade, replies icily, “Don’t apologize to me, Belinda, apologize to the man you were so rude to this morning.”
   “I’m sorry, Mr. Baxter, for being rude to you. Please ask Miss Williams to stop spanking me. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll NEVER be disrespectful to you again. Or ANY other customer.”, Belinda said to the man watching her get her bare bottom blistered.
    Waiting for Mr. Baxter, a handsome dark haired man in his early forties, to reply, Miss Williams noticed the bulge straining to be released from his tight pants. He was clearly enjoying watching her burning up Belinda’s buns. GOOD! His company was her bank’s biggest client, with over a million dollars in his account. She would do anything to keep him happy.
   As much as he was enjoying the show, based on the shade of her bubble butt, he had to agree with Belinda, she was one well spanked girl. “I believe Belinda learned her lesson, Miss Williams. You can stop spanking her now.”
     “Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Baxter”, Belinda said, tears running down her cheeks, before flying off of Miss Williams’ lap. Once on her feet, Belinda began to hop from foot to foot, rubbing her red hot rear furiously.
     After trying in vain to rub out the fires consuming her beet red rear, Belinda turned towards Mr Baxter and said, “I mean it, Mr. Baxter. I know I deserved that spanking. I am truly sorry for being so rude to you. I’ve … been having a hard time lately. Today was really bad. But I shouldn’t had taken it out on you. Please forgive me.”
    Wiping the tears from Belinda’s big blue eyes, with his handkerchief, Mr. Baxter felt guilty, for enjoying watching the pixie faced German girl getting her ass tore up. “I’m .. sorry to hear that, Belinda. If you would like to talk about that, I get off of work today at five. I could drop by here then, and take you out to dinner. I know a exclusive restaurant I think you would love. They have the best steaks in town.”
    “Yes, I would love to have dinner with you.”, Belinda said smiling, even as she was still rubbing her steaming butt cheeks. “ I mean, IF I can sit down by five o’ clock.”

Leprechaun

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Kitchen Woes

"AU!!! Mein Popo! AUA!!! Stop this! AUA!!!"

"No way, Miss Krüger! When I hired you as a cooky, I expected you know how to cook! But since your concoction is just awful, you should not be surprised to find yourself in such a position!"

The Credit

"AUTSCH!!!! Mein Popo!!! It hurt so bad! BOOHOO!!!"

"Well, I don't doubt! But try to see the bright side, Miss Krüger! Yes, you won't be able to sit down for a while, but I bet, you'll repay me all your debt until the end of the day!"

In the Parlor

"AUTSCH!!! Mein Popo! AUA!!!"

"Hold still, lass! If I'll catch you snooping in my bedroom ever again, this will be just a picnic in comparison!"

Minx Battle

"AUTSCH!!! Mein Popo! AUTSCH!!!"

"This pub is mine, Krüger! I hope this time I'll made you to remember this! Go to swindle guys to cocktails somewhere else! When you'll be able to sit at the bar, of course!"

Battle of Britain Day

Well, belated actually

Music Connecting People

“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…”

Smart-Ass

"AUTSCH!!! Mein Popo! AUA!!! This is just unfair! AUTSCH!!!"

"Oh, really? And is it fair to steal the gold from a poor old leprechaun? You got your trophy, Miss Smart-Ass, but I won't stop, until you'll wish to give it back to me, it's own and rightful owner! I can make this German ass of yours smarter and smarter all day long!"

"AUTSCH!!! Mein Gott! AUTSCH!!!"

How Painful Could Be on a Top

"Listen and memorize, you, German upstart! Don't try to work harder, then we do! Do you want us to get into a trouble because of you? We - surely not!"

"Give her the baker's dozen, Michelle!"

"AUTSCH!!! Mein Popo! AUA!!!"

Making an Example

"Look carefully, Saoirse. Since you're a new maid in my house, I think you'd better to see, what happens to lazy, clumsy or arrogant workers! And you, Martha, better to think, why I need to birch this German ass of yours second time this week!"

The Price

"Ahem!"

"Whoops!"

"Mein Gott!"

"Well, girls, I really hope that all you so worth it to sleep on your bellies for a while!"

Bad Vacation

"Hey?!"

"Don't you read the signs, Miss? Smoking and drinking alcohol isn't allowed in this area!"

"I'll teach you, how to behave in a foreign country, young lady!"

"AUTSCH!!! AUA!!! AUTSCH!!!!"

Bitter Cider

Belinda and Tina were two students, one from Germany and the other from Sweden, on vacation in Ireland. They were walking through the countryside, when they saw a beautiful garden and an apple trees in it.

"I'm feeling rather hungry!" groaned Belinda, "So am I!" replied her friend, "Look over there!" she pointed to a farm house with several apple trees in front, "Those should work."

The two blonde girls started picking apples and unloading them into their bag, they did this for several minutes before a young red headed woman came out of the house.

"Stop! Stop!" She shrieked, "Those belong to my family, you can't take them!"

Belinda turned to face the newcomer, "Oh, I think we can, and we are!" she then got back to work picking the fruit, the Irishwoman shouted again, "Stop stealing from me or else!" "Or else what?" lazily smirked Belinda.

The furious Irishwoman marched up to the girls and before they even knew what was happening, had them both by the ear.

"OWWIEE! OUUCCHHHH!!!, Let us go!" they yammered, but she continued in  through the house, until they got to the basement. "Ok, tramps, you can't put those apples back on the tree, but, you can make up for such misdeeds in another way" she let go of their ears.

"You can't do this!" screamed Tina.

"Yeah, this has to be illegal or something" added Belinda.

"It may be" smirked the redhead, "but so is stealing and trespassing, which you are both guilty of."

The girls looked at each other, they could make a run for the exit, but probably wouldn't make it.

"How about this, lets make a deal, you two help me make cider for the next few hours, and I'll let you both go, no charges, you can even keep the apples."

"OK, sure!" Belinda and Tina both said, neither was particularly excited about making cider, but that deal seemed surprisingly easy.

"Glad we're on the same page, before we get to work, I should really introduce myself, my name's Renee, and yours?"

Belinda  and Tina gave her their names.

"OK great!" smiled the Irishwoman, "Nice to meet the two of you, now that introductions are out of the way, let's get to work, first, hand me your panties!"

"What?" both girls said in unison.

"Oh sorry, I said, hand me your panties!" Renee said again, still smiling.

"We heard you, but why?"

"Well, You did steal from me, so you are bad girls, and thus really need to be punished, simple labor really would be far two easy!"said Renee with rage.

Belinda and Tina saw no choice but to accept, and thus handed over  their clothing exposing themselves before taking up positions at the apple press and starting to turn it.

"Goof job girls, really, but you there!" She gestured to Belinda "I'm afraid you are going a bit slow, try to pick it up!" She abruptly hit her across the bum with a birch.

"AUTSCH!!!" she yelled in pain.

A few hours in an Irishwoman's basement were like forever in hell for a German and Swedish girls. She birched them mercilessly while they were rotating the apple press. Tina found out quickly that it was really not very clever idea to talk back to Renee, but even that didn't save her milky-white buttocks from the birches, while Belinda tried to protest and received the most powerful strokes which made her howling desperately in pain.

Finally the work was over and Renee commanded crying and bawling girls to stop and stay faces to the wall.

"Well, at least you worked quite hard," she said smiling "But I think you still didn't learn your lesson!"

"But we did!" screamed Belinda and received one more stroke with the birches, which made her howl in pain.

"In my house I choose, when the lesson is learned properly!" Renee said "So you two still deserve some more birching! First you, Swedish!" she turned to Tina.

Few seconds later the Swedish girl started screaming and bawling in pain, while the Irishwoman was giving her the six of the Best. When she ended Tina's bottom was full covered with the dark red stripes.

"And now you, stupid German!" Renee turned to Belinda

"Nein! You can not do this to me! Please! My bottom is sore like a Hell!" the German protested but it was to no purpose. Few seconds later her howling and bawling and cursing were hear even outside the house. Renee finished the punishment only after poor Belinda received a baker's dozen.

"Now I'm sure you two learned your lesson!" the Irishwoman said "And now get out from my farm!"

Bawling in pain and forgetting about almost everything, Belinda and Tina ran through the village and made a stop only at the exit, when they saw a water trough. They sat on their upper legs, daring not to sit full in the trough, and eased their bottoms into the cold water. At first it was rather painful; it felt as fire and ice might feel if they were sentient and could express their feelings. But after a moment or so ice defeated fire, and the girls's red rear ends began to cool. It was not immediate, and the girls had to be careful not to make waves in the trough. But after about ten minutes Belinda and Tina felt comfortable enough. Their bottoms were not the only thing that were red and burning. Their entire faces were cherry-red from embarrassment, so they carefully splashed water on it, this time finding it much less necessary to spend the time they had with their charbroiled hind-end.