The Flirt Penalty

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Lord and Lady Hawthorne, one of the wealthiest couples in Warwickshire, England, one night threw a party for exchange students from the United States, Germany, and France, and one of the guests happened to be young Belinda, who had been a German exchange student to the United States, but because she wrecked her exchange sister’s car through her own fault, the US family was angery with her and sent her back home. But Belinda was too curious, too adventurous to remain in the country she already knew so well, the country of her birth, where she could meet on students who were just like her, as she saw it. So six weeks after her return to Germany she was accepted as an exchange student to a small British college in Warwickshire, where Lord Hawthorne was dean-at-large. Lord Hawthorne was a tall, elegant man in his early 40’s. He was very handsom, with a medium complexion with auburn hair and a very fine, slender mustache. His weight was perfect: he was the quintessential British gentleman.

The party that Lord and Lady Hawthorne gave for the exchange students was a house-warming party. All of the professors who taught these students were there with their wives, and the exchange students were invited to bring their dates. For the most part the gathering was cordial but rather low-keyed. Wine and expensive champaign were served to all the guests, and expensive ors d’erves likewise were provided for the guests. Most people had no more than one or two glasses of the two classic wines, and almost all of them were subdued; the Hawthorne’s stood hospitably at the door to greet all the guests in the most informal and friendly manner possible; however, the dress required was rather formal. Men were asked to wear black tie and tails; women in formal, black gowns.

But Belinda was not like the other guests. She was a very attractive girl, and she thought that would count a good deal to her appearance. However, though the dress she wore was expensive, it was not really appropriate for a formal affair. There was a rather noticeable slit on the left bottom side of the dress, and the young lady weas not wearing hose, only heels. As far as the top of the dress was concerned, there were no straps holding it up, which itself was all right, but other ladies had long, zipped up backs that kept their dresses secure at the top; young Belinda, on the other hand, wore a dress that she could just slip over her head; there wasn’t much back to speak of, and in fact the top part of her dress was held up only by the healthy size of hers breasts. Both Lord and Lady Hawthorne greeted the girl politely when she arrived, alone, and kindly welcomed her to the gathering; but both the husband and wife looked rather ascanse at the girl when she arrived, Lord Hawthorne a little uncomfortable, Lady Hawthorne whispering to herself “Slut!”

As soon as Belinda had arrived at the house warming and been welcomed in by Lord and Lady Hawthorne, she dived immediately into the champagne, which she loved but had so rarely. After only fifteen minutes she was finishing her third glass; to ensure that there would be plenty more for her, she held on to the half–empty bottle she was using, and took possession of a second, uncorked bottle but full bottle for future use. A number of the professors and students noticed this, and though no one took her to task for it, from their rather stern, even disgusted looks of them, it was clear that they did not like it, and thought of her as a “lush.”

While she was drinking, almost glass after glass of the expensive wine, Belinda looked time and again in the direction of Dr. Prof. Lord Hawthorne. From the beginning of her attendance at the small British college, Belinda had a crush on this handsome dean-at-large of this small college, the College of the Holy Virgin, which was a branch of the much larger Cambridge University in London. “Virgin,” as the college was known for short, was one of the highest-ranking colleges in Great Britain and Northern Ireland and usually its doors were only opened to the top rank of students. Belinda herself was only an average student, but because of her profiency in German and English grammar, there was only one other German exchange student at Virgin, and her English was poor, and because Belinda agreed to act as a tutor of German to all British students who were studying German as their foreign language requirement (not to mention that her father was himself a little on the wealthy side), she was admitted to Virgin. Belinda made a number of British friends at the college; she was pretty, with blonde hair, blue eyes and a very fair complexion. She wasn’t real tall, which made her look younger than her 24 years – she believed that keeping her hair in braids like a German mädchen, contributed to this, to her, undesirable feature, so she went to a stylist and had her hair cut and styled in a smart, cute short look. Notwitstanding that she was a tiny plump, most boys agreed she had a good figure, and with the sexy, barely-regulation dress she had, was a very desirable woman. But the only male Belinda was interested in was tall, handsome Lord Hawthorne who, though more than twenty years her senior, saw the young girl looking at not in the way a good girl looks at her teacher, but in the way a woman looks at the man with whom she was in love; on several occasions she even fluttered her real but mascarrae-treated lashes at him, even surreptitiously winking at him. The dean was totally embarrassed and pretended not to notice – but other students did, and her reputation was sagging, one by one her friends were finding excuses not to spend time with her, boys were turned off, and girls thought of her as a “whore”.

And so we return to the party, where Belinde had finished her fourth glass of this rather strong champagne and poured herself a fifth: the girl decided it was time to show her hand to Herr Professor. She headed toward him; he was stationed at the front door with Lady Hawthorne. “Good evening, Lord Professor Hawthorne!” She greeted him voluptuously; Lord Hawthorne’s face blushed, and Lady Hawthorne was visibly annoyed.

“Good… Good evening, Fräulein Belinda,” the dean returned, “I know I have previously introduced you to my WIFE!” But Belinde ignored this last part, downed the remainder of her champagne, and as sexily as she could, considering she was intoxicated and her eyes were half closed but were still fixed on the dean, extended her left side, the side of the slit in her dress, and lfted it a little, showing pretty much the entire side of her leg – even exosing a little of the thong she wore in lieu of panties, and her very-lower bottom, all part of her plan of seducing the professor – in the presence of his own wife! – and the “come-on” look in Belinda’s face – contributed to the fury of Lord Hawthorne’s wife, herself a stately lady of 40 with red hair and blue eyes, noticeably taller than Belinda, and she took hold of Belinda’s shoulder, saying, at first evenly, “You’ve had perhaps a little too much champagne, my dear. Why don’t you come with me to the guest room and lie down for a bit?” As Lady Hawthorne led Belinde away, gently, but only at first, by the sboulder, the girl blew a kiss at the dean, who quickly looked away, never having been so embarrassed in his life.

Lady Hawthorne’s concerned treatment of Belinda changed suddenly when the two reached the foray of the rooms, out of sight of the other guests. She grabbed the girl by the hair and hauled her to the farthest room down the hall. “You little trollop! Do you think I am a fool? Do you think I haven’t been noticing you drinking glass after glass of champagne, making eyes at every chance at my husband, coming to us in a drunken state walking like a slut or a cassino girl, acting like a common stripper in front of my husband, while at the same time making a spectacle of yourself in front of our guests – your classmates and professors? You are the fool, little Fräulein! I assure you, I won’t rest until I see you expelled from Virgin, with nowhere else to go but back to Germany!” When they reached the room Lady Hawthorne, still holding on tightltly to Belinda’s hair, opened the bedroom closet and retrieved a rug-beater. Belinda caught sight of it, and her eyes and mouth flew wide open: she knew what it was for.

Then Lady Hawthorn forced young Belinda on the bed and get on all fours. There was the briefest of scuffles between Belinda and Lady Hawthorne, which the girl lost easily, the older woman reclasping Belinda’s hair and twisting her right arm behind her back. In the conflict the top part of the German girl’s dress fell, leaving completely bare both of her breasts; likewise, the girls foot was handled rougly to station it precisely where Lady Hawthorne wanted it, and her shoe fell off, leaving one of her feet bare. Once Lady Hawthorne had forced the girl on al fours, she hiked up Belinda’s dress, exposing an already-near bare bottom, but Lady Hawthorne completely humiliated Belinda by pulling he very-naughty thong half-way down between her upper leg and knees. With Belinda now almost completely bare except for one shoe and a rather-naughty dress buched up well under her breasts but over her belly button, Lady Hawthorne began scolding the girl. “How DARE you, you worthless harlot, tramp! How dare you humiliate my husband and myself, even my our guests, with your wanton, drunken behavior! MY husband and I have been married more than twenty years – happily married, I might add! – and we have a grown daughter, about your age. But SHE behaves like a lady! YOU behave like a prostitute! And the most proper punishment for a trollop is a fine, bare-arsed whipping! You are very, very lucky, young whore! That I am not inviting my husband and your classmates to witness your chastisement! Relly, a PUBLIC whipping should be what a BITCH like you earns!” Belinda, sobered by her treatment, scolding, and up-coming whipping by Lady Hawthorne, was about to say something, but before she could form words: WHAM! The first blow from Lady Hawthorne’s rug-beater fell on Belinde’s ever-so-bare, rather plump bottom.
Belinda looked back pathetically, pleadingly, at Lady Hawthorne as she had landed the first, hard smack of the rugbeater on the naughty young German college student’s bottom, but the girl’s disciplinarian ignored this, and continued her young truant’s punishment apace.

WHAP!. . . . SMACK!. . . . WHAM!. . . . THWACK!. . . . WHOP!. . . . CRACK!. . . . BAM!. . . . WHACK!. . . .

“AHHHHHHHH!” Belinda screamed, begging Lady Hawthorne, “Bitte Sie, Meine Frau! AU!!! I BEG you, My Lady! AUTSCH!!! Bitte sie… AUA!!! PLEASE! I am too old for such treatment AU!!! by at least two years! Ich habe AUA!!!! I have been in college for two years now! AUTSCH!!!! I don’t deserve a spanking! PLEASE! Just toss me out of your house ignominiously! But PLEASE! AUA!!!! Please don’t spank me!” Her embarrassed, pained eyes looked directly behind her at her disciplinarian.

But even as Belinda was speaking, Lady Hawthorn branded the girl’s butt painfully and humiliatingly with welts and redness; she had never been spanked with a rug-beater before, and the unfortunate girl, chronically naughty and, perhaps, lacking in common sense, found that it hurt even more than a belt she felt in Russia sometime ago – Lady Hawthorne thrashed the blushing girl’s rear almost unmercifully, eliciting pleas, yells, screams, even squeals from the would-be “lover” of her husband, and as the thrashing proceeded, the girl’s rather fat bottom wiggled and jiggled at each swat; this affected her entire voice, and when she was pleading with her hostess her voice shook rather violently with each stroke of the highly-effective rug-beater.

Not even slowing the hard swats she was awarding Belinda for daring to flirt with her husband – that in company with the fact that Belinde did it right in front of her – Mrs. Hawthorne resumed her scold-lambaste of Belinda. “Young woman! – I REFUSE to call you lady because you are definitely not one! – the only thing you can hope for in the future is marriage to a man who does not have a trollop for a wife, who works to support you, while you go through a string of lovers! And then, when you grow older and are tied down with children, most of them probably not his!You’ll get your hard-working husband to hire a girl to take care of them for you and you will laze around in bed all day or dozing off on the sofa, watching TV, making no effort either to mother your children or keep up the house, leaving all this to the underpaid girl your husband has hired; and at all times you will be eating and drinking! Believe me, you whore, you strumpet! THAT’S the most you can hope for!”

Belinda began crying, loudly and uncontrollably. Of course, the whipping she was getting, sharper and sharper with each swat, was part of the reason for her outburst of tears. But really the main cause were the unkind – unwarranted and, as it happened later untrue – words of Lady Hawthorne. She had never been scolded so roundly before. Belinda’s thinking-power was weakened, but she knew that Lady Hawthorne’s words were uncalled for, cruel – but later, they had the positive effect of making Belinda a better, more responsible and respectful students – Lady Hawthorne’s vocal beration of the girl, AND the thrashing she got from her dean’s wife. So, the thrashing and the scalding “prediction” of the girl’s life was not only limited to harm Belinde; they also helped her – though Lady Hawthorne acted merely in a punitive, insulting role.

WHAM! THRRRRRRRASH!. . . . WHAAAAACK!. . . . THWAAAACK!. . . . BAAAAAAAAM. . . .

“AUTSCH!” the girl began crying, “AUTSCH!. . . . OOOOOHHHHHH!” she began howling and moaning in pain. However, she made no attempt to struggle or cuffle. She remained on the bed, her hands holding up her fron, her knees, as steadily as she could manage, now obediently upholding her bottom for the walloping it was getting; her feet, on shod, the other bare, were behind her. She decided to “take her punishment like a man!” – an ironic expression she had heard from other schoolgirls when a girl being thrashed cried inordinately and was annoying them.

Lady Hawthorne had been rug-beating Belinda for fifteen minutes. She stopped to see if she had done a thorough job and, satisfied that she had, said simply, “All right, Missy, your done. I don’t need to tell you again to stay away from my husband, except in his capacity as your headmaster, and your own as his student.” Lady Hawthorne made no further mention of working for Belinda’s expulsion from Virgin, in fact never even mentioned it to anyone else again.

“It is late, Miss Belinda,” said Lady Hawthorne a little less sternly than before, “and you may not drive home, in as much as you are intoxicated. To ensure your safety Master Abel, our chauffeur, will take you home. He has the evening off, but I will call him and in about half an hour he will be here to pick you up. One of our young female guests will come here and knock, telling you it is time to go. Make sure that you are decent.”

“Ja, meine Frau!” replied Belinda, “I will be of no further embarrassment to you!”

“You may lie on the bed and remain uncovered until the girl comes to your door.” Before she left Lady Hawthorne watched as young Belinde lay full-length on the bed on her stomache. Belinda’s expensive, “hot” dress was bunched just above her waist; she kicked off her remaining shoe so she could cool off as much as possible. Except for the “belt” of her dress, the girl was naked.

Mrs. Hawthorne did not say anything else, but as is the common practice of parents who have disciplined their children, she left the rug-beater right beside the girl where she lay. Alone now, Belinda buried her face in her arms and cried bitterly. She thought over and over every major event of the evening. She regretted, and cried, over every glass of champaign she had drunk: she KNEW that if she was not drunk she would probably not even tried to “hit on” the dean as she did – certainly not infront of his wife! Belinda said to herself, through tears, “Autsch! I have the intelligence of a cow!” Then she thought about the shocked faces of her classmates and professors as she made her moves around the handsome man, who was yet old enough to be her father AND standing right beside his wife! She went over, what she now believed, was her well-earned bare bottom thrashing from Mrs. Hawthorne, and her rather nasty, unbecoming remarks for a lady of her station to make to a young girl. Belinda decidely said to herself, “I definitely did NOT deserve to be scolded in such a witchly manner by Lady Hawthorne! May she pay for them!” And Belinda began crying a little more loudly; however, this spell did not last long, and she thought of Lady Hawthorne’s concern for her safety, and her decision to send the girl home in comfort. Belinda was seemingly “sobered-up” by Lady Hawthorne’s thrashing, but after it was over the girls head began again to spend, and the thoughts she uttered aloud to herself were slurred; she was indeed still quite tipsy and clearly unfit to drive, and surely too unsteady on her feet to walk, not only from her drunken state but also from the thrashing she had gotten from Lady Hawthorne.

After lying on the bed for some time, her butt and the upper part of her legs burning and throbbing, Belinda decided it was time to get ready to go, to adjust her dress so that she was pesentable and to pull up her thong-panties. So she went to the mirror, but she also wanted to check the damage on her backside, So, her dress still bunched-up at her center, she saw that Lady Hawthorne had done her work well. There was not the slightest sign of blood, but wickedly-red welts covered her bottom, and there were a few marks on the back of her legs. Belinda was not crying now, but she was pained, ashamed and humiliated. She had a very unhappy appearance as she gazed at her afflicted backside.