Belinda's American Education - Punishment - Part 7

[Continued from Belinda's American Education - Preparation for Punishment - Part 6]

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Belinda’s anger turned to panic as the principal tap-tap-taped the razor strap against her scandalously raised bottom.  “Ready, Belinda?” he asked, not waiting for an answer.  “Let us begin.” 

 The principal stepped back and raised the strap high in the air…

 

Time froze as the principal leaned back into his windup.  In that instant before the punishment began, Belinda experienced a moment of absolute clarity. 

 

Belinda was a beautiful young woman, and although she was an ardent feminist she knew how to maximize her sexuality for her own benefit.  Belinda could use a dropped pencil or an “accidental” flash of thigh to reward…or punish…the males she held in her grip.

 

Case in point was Professor Winters, the faculty advisor whose career had nearly been destroyed by Belinda’s sexual harassment suit.  Belinda had used her attractiveness to maneuver Winters under her thumb, then crush him like a bug when he failed to dance to her tune.

 

As she lay over the spanking bench Belinda sexiness was no longer under her control.  Belinda’s arms and ankles were strapped securely to the bench and she wiggled her fingers in frustration as she squirmed in helpless embarrassment. 

 

Belinda stared at her school uniform, which was folded neatly a few feet away.  It was a humbling outfit, to be sure, designed to strip the 26-year-old Professor of her authority and reduce her to the status of a naughty delinquent.  But what Belinda wouldn’t give to be wearing the skirt or underpants now!

 

It was not to be.  Belinda was naked save for a midriff baring T-shirt, and her humbling position made her acutely aware of her bare ass, which was raised high for the strap.  Because the bench was inverted her ass cheeks were the highest point of her body.  Although it was a degrading position even Belinda realized to her chagrin that it was strangely appropriate, since it allowed everyone in the room to focus on the evening’s “entertainment”:  paddling Belinda’s naughty backside. 

 

Belinda was smart and beautiful. She was wealthy.  She was powerful.  How had things gone so horribly wrong?  Professor Belinda Krueger had been replaced by naughty Belinda, a naughty little doxy whose bottom had been laid bare for an old fashioned butt whipping.

 

If Belinda found her position demeaning, what of it?  If the little slut had followed the rules and kept her hands out of her knickers she would be snoozing comfortably in her bed.  Instead Belinda let her fingers do the walking, and now her naughty backside was going to pay the price.

 

Belinda clenched her teeth as she waited for the first stroke to land.  Belinda had never experienced the strap before, although she had certainly read about it in the numerous spanking stories she had studied online.  On the spanking story sites the strap was always spoken of with fear and awe, and Belinda had secretly enjoyed reading about the incorrigibles who had wiggled their fannies under its cruel caress.

 

Belinda had often wondered about what it might be like to be punished in a reformatory, and had enjoyed the fantasy in part because it had seemed so safely ridiculous.  Imagine!  Belinda Krueger, heiress and PhD student, strapped down half naked over a bench for a reformatory whipping.  Preposterous!

 

However, now that her naughty fantasy had metastasized into a painful reality the idea of her experiencing a honest-to-goodness reformatory strapping didn’t seem preposterous at all.  Indeed, Belinda knew that if any of her students, colleagues, or former boyfriends walked into the auditorium no objection would be raised.  Belinda was no longer a college Professor, but simply another reformatory slut, bent bare for the strap.

 

Belinda was smart, but she tended to be imperious and difficult.  As she thought about the student she had lorded it over or the boyfriend she had toyed with, she wondered if they would stop her punishment if they had the power.  Would they save her, or would they lean back, smile, and relish her humiliation as they watched justice being served?   

 

Belinda’s personal feelings about her punishment were a hodgepodge stew of embarrassment, fantasy, and fear.  “You’ve imagined this for years,” she thought.  “Now you’re finally going to get it.  On the bare, in front of a roomful of people, just like all those stories by Goodgulf and the others that you’ve secretly gloated over all these years.” 

 

Belinda felt a twinge of guilt.  Did she deserve to be punished?  Did savoring the reformatory punishments of other women, even fictional ones, somehow make her fair game for the strap and the paddle?  Was the punishment she was about to receive, on some strange, cosmic level, “just?”

 

Belinda ears pricked up at the sound of a sharp whistle…the strap was on its way!  Belinda surged against her straps, but they held her firm.  She had tested the straps herself earlier that week, and had sewn a frayed strap.   Belinda, as always, had done an exemplary job: a triple stitch with a strong, wire thread that took a pair of clippers to cut.  Belinda was fastened to the punishment bench as if by steel.  Her hard work had ensured there would be no interruption, and her punishment would continue until her betters decided the lesson was fully learned.

 

In the split second before impact, Belinda’s mind raced.  “A good dose of strap oil, right across your bare cheeks, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.  You can tug, and twist, and squirm, and all you’ll do is make a show for everyone to enjoy.  You’re going to be spanked, bare assed, with everyone watching, and there isn’t a thing you can…”

SMACK! 

 

Belinda heard the crack of the strap before she felt it.  The pain itself took a few seconds to register, and when it did it started at the edges, as if someone had branded a large square onto her backside.  Then the pain began to radiate inward, and Belinda realized that it was the outline of the strap, which had indeed branded a perfect square onto her dreadfully exposed bottom.

 

Belinda opened her mouth to yell just as the next stroke landed.

 

SMACK! 

 

Instead of screaming, Belinda gulped air as the second stroke crackled across her bottom.  The stroke landed directly below the first and Belinda could feel the pain line from the lower half of the first stroke actually touching the pain line from the upper half of the second. 

 

The overlap was miniscule, but it was agonizing.  Belinda realized that the principal was actually “painting” her bottom, laying on the strokes with surgical precision.  Although Belinda felt oddly relieved to be in experienced hands, she knew the price she would pay for being strapped by a master craftsman.  The principal knew how to make a strapping excruciating, and Belinda would pay the full price for her misdeeds.

 

As the pain of the second stroke subsided Belinda had a brief moment for a revelation: this strapping was going to hurt! The fantasy of a spanking had been wiped away by reality and now things were starting to heat up. 

A third stroke resulted in a grunt and whine as tears formed in her eyes. She was determined not to cry out but just three strokes into things and she was already wavering. She was barely aware of the crowd but could see them in the distance as her face was forced forward in the chin rest. The designers of this bench had thought of everything and her face was forced towards the crowd by the chin rest. 

Two more strokes in quick succession were successful in making her cry out. It seems the principal wanted to hear something for his efforts. Tears started going down her cheeks as she kicked her legs with each stroke. She tried to control her legs and keep them down but it was hard, oh so hard with the burning in her backside. But each time she kicked her legs she risked exposing her nethers to the audience and she really didn’t want that.

“Now, now, Belinda,” the principal warned, tapping her bare ass with the wicked strap for emphasis.  “We’ll tolerate no false modesty from you.  Your bottom must be raised high so your bare cheeks can be properly punished.  You’ve been sentenced to a genuine reformatory whipping, and that is precisely what you’re going to get.”

Belinda didn’t know why he was saying that. With her waists tightly secured by a broad leather belt she was in no danger of going anywhere. And her legs were forced to dangle loosely to the sides preventing her from clenching her bottom. The bench’s design was wickedly effective with a girl’s legs forced to straddle and nothing to hide.

  

Belinda was painfully aware of her exposure, and the snickers and laughter as this most private portion of her bottom was revealed, but at the moment she could only think of the burning in her as

 

She craned her neck slightly and caught Ethan Buckley, disgusting pig that he was, leaning in for a closer look.  The 22-year-old frat rats were all smiles, and for a moment Belinda thought she caught the glimpse of a camera phone in Bill’s meaty hand.

 

Belinda did not care.  The pain was too intense.  In spite of her humiliation she tried to wiggle some relief into her ass cheeks but all it did was lewdly expose herself to the crowd more.

 

The principal’s voice brought her back into reality.

 

“That’s it, Belinda…arch your bottom straight up.  You’ve earned a good thrashing, and with your bottom cheeks split this next stroke will be make you sing!”

 

Belinda’s eyes turned into saucers as she realized too late what would happen.  She tried to clench, but the strap was already whistling through the air, and Belinda’s bottom cheeks were split high and wide…  

 

Belinda had polished the strap until the leather was as smooth and supple as butter, and once again her diligence worked to her detriment.   The sinuous strap snaked into the crack of her bottom, eliciting a howl from Belinda that rang to the rafters! 

 

The principal smiled; bullseye!  For the next week, whether standing, walking, or sitting, whenever Belinda’s bottom cheeks brushed together she would remember her shameful discipline.

 

As Belinda wailed her 22-year-old stepmother Brittany laughed out loud.  Her snotty, prissy stepdaughter was getting it but good, and if Brittany had her way this punishment would be the first of many.   Belinda’s smug, condescending attitude infuriated her, and she was determined to see Belinda stripped of her dignity much as the strap had skinned her inner cheeks.

 

From the rear of the room, Detective Sabrina Duncan had an altogether different reaction.  It was difficult to reconcile the sleek, sophisticated Belinda Krueger with the squirming bare bottom in the front of the room.  Belinda didn’t look like a college Professor but rather a reformatory slut getting exactly what she deserved.

 

Detective Duncan knew that Belinda was innocent of any crime, and a part of her wanted to intervene.  Sabrina knew she could not, because Belinda’s cover must be maintained, even at the price of leaving her backside painfully, shamefully exposed. 

 

However Sabrina found she was enjoying the punishment, much to her amazement.  As the razor strap did its work Sabrina found herself arching her neck for a better view and squeezing her thighs together.  The tingle between her legs was quite pleasant, and Sabrina wondered if her undercover assignment might give her the opportunity to witness other girl’s punishments. 

 

Tears flowed from Belinda’s eyes and the fires on her ass burned agonizingly. Her legs fluttered and the full extent of her punishment was 

 

The audience chuckled as the squirming, bucking Belinda tried to “rub out” the sting, but it was quite hopeless.

The principal walked to the other side and started several sizzling strokes from the other side, ostensibly to make sure both cheeks got their “fair” share. And fair share indeed. Soon Belinda was howling and kicking without any semblance of modesty. 

Finally the strapping paused and there was some time for Belinda to catch her breath and sob. Sweat and tears wet her face and some snot even dripped down her nose. Was it over? She hopefully wondered?  

 

It wasn’t until Belinda felt the drops of brine hitting her in the face, and spied the smiling Miss Rawlings shaking out the bundled birch rod that she realized what was next.

 

Belinda watched in horror as the beaming Miss Rawlings handed Professor Winters the bundled rod.  “Since I’m your faculty advisor, the principal thought it appropriate for me to administer this phase of your punishment,” Professor Winters explained.  “Have you ever been birched, Belinda?  No?  Well, then you’re really in for a treat.”

 

SWISH!  THWACK!

 

Belinda’s temporary relief ended abruptly as the birch found its mark.  Belinda felt as if a thousand hornets had stung her bottom simultaneously, and she let out a sound that was half scream, and half yelp.  A few twigs broke off and flew past her head, landing on the floor in front of her. 

 

Many in the audience voiced their enthusiastic approval.

 

“That’s more like it!”

 

“Yes, make the little slut’s bottom dance.”

 

The pain was indescribable, and Belinda’s head buzzed.  As she watched the smiling Professor Winters shake out the birch rod in preparation for the next stroke Belinda realized the terrible power a teacher has over a student.

 

Belinda was smart, but she had a sharp tongue and little patience with students who displeased her.  In that moment, she vowed to rededicate her heart and soul to teaching, and never abuse the trust that had been given her.

 

Tap-tap-tap! 

 

“Please,” Belinda said, gasping for air. “I’m sorry for trying to escape.  I’m sorry for being so…so horny!  I’m sorry I was arrogant.  Please!  You have to stop!”

 

“Stop?” Professor Winters said, chuckling.  “We’re just starting.  You have a long lesson ahead of you, young lady!” 

 

Belinda’s head swarmed.  “No, wait.  I can’t do this.  Talk to Sabrina.  Tell her…”

 

Belinda’s final, desperate escape hatch was kicked shut as Miss Rawlings slipped a leather gag into her mouth.  “Now, now, dear, we don’t want you to damage those pretty teeth with a lot of gnashing,” she purred as she buckled the gag behind Belinda’s head.  “Now we can make sure that you feel each and every stroke!”

 

Belinda’s eyes grew wild with panicked as she vainly yanked against her straps.  “I’m not a reformatory slut!” she shouted.  “I was protecting my father!  You can’t birch me!  This is a mistake!  Stop!  Stop!”

 

Miss Rawlings smiled indulgently.  The gag rendered Belinda’s frantic explanation unintelligible.  To all the world Belinda looked like a foolish nitwit, babbling frantic nonsense as her Professor flexed the switch.

 

Belinda realized to her horror there was no way out.  Belinda hoped that Professor Winters would see the panic in her eyes.  She hoped that Detective Duncan would halt the punishment.  In her wild desperation she even dreamed that her beloved father would burst in through the doors and save her from this gross injustice.

 

The response Belinda received, however, was the response she dreaded most.  Professor Winters rubbed the bristling, wicked birch switch against her bottom, and chuckled softly.  “Do you remember your sexual harassment lawsuit, Belinda?  Did it make you feel powerful?  Now, you’re going to find out what true power is all about.”

 

As she realized that she was going to be soundly birched Belinda experienced what could only be described as a panic attack.  Rivulets of sweat poured down her face.  Her heart raced.  She gasped for air through her gag.

 

The second stroke exploded across her bottom; it was needles of fire.  Then another. And another. If she didn’t have the gag, she would have taken the roof off with her howling. The room disappeared, the crowds disappeared. Belinda had no sensation of self. There was only the pain of the thrashing on her ass. 

Eventually Belinda was aware her punishment had stopped. She had a blazing bottom and heard Brittany’s singsong voice.  “Open your eyes, dear.  I haven’t got all day.”

 

Brittany held Belinda’s head up by the hair, but as Belinda opened her eyes and snapped to her stepmother released and Belinda’s chin hit her chest. Her gag had been removed.

 

“That’s better,” Brittany purred.  “This won’t be the first time you get that cute little butt of yours skinned.  You’d better get used to it.  There are going to be many more butt whippings in your future, if I have anything to say about it!”

 

Belinda looked around.  She was still strapped over the spanking bench, in the auditorium, but they were alone.  

 

“Where did everyone go?”  Brittany mumbled, still dazed.

 

“They emptied the theater to give you some air.  I’m here to comfort you, and take you to the Recovery Room.  Isn’t that sweet? But it’s just for a short time before you go back to your room. I think you’ll need a lot more time to heal your butt.”

 

Belinda closed her eyes. She was exhausted. Now she knew what the expressions “spank the daylights out of you” meant. She was barely aware as two attendants came up and unstrapped her. Someone pulled a short shift over body and she was taken somewhere and laid down on a couch.

[Read Part 8 Here]