Belinda’s three coworkers were watching her like a hawk when she arrived for work Friday morning. The pretty pixie faced blonde tried to sit down at her desk as gently as possible, but the second her badly bruised bottom landed on her chair, she let out a tiny squeal of pain, causing her three coworkers to laugh uproariously. But Belinda didn’t blame them, every woman at that accounting firm had been paddled by their boss, Rhonda Grey, before, and they all teased each other afterwards.

Rhonda was a fair but strict boss, and Belinda and her coworkers never felt like they were ever punished unjustly. Until yesterday. Belinda had accidentally logged into the company’s private account, instead of their business account, when Rhonda came flying out of her office, enraged, shouting at Belinda that she was the only one in that office allowed to view the company’s private account. The pretty German girl apologized profusely, saying she had done it accidentally, and had logged back out the second she realized her mistake. Rhonda still marched Belinda into her office, and gave her bare bottom six blistering swats with her wicked paddle. Belinda left her office bawling like a baby, her butt burning well into the night.

Belinda was a curious girl, and wondered why that had upset Rhonda so badly. Since Rhonda wasn’t due in that day until after lunch, Belinda decided to sneak back into the company’s private account, looking for an explanation for why Rhonda had acted like she had yesterday. Fifteen minutes later she found what she was looking for. Somebody had placed a large sum of the company’s funds into an account Belinda had never seen before. Doing an online search, she found that company didn’t exist. Someone had funneled the company’s funds into a bogus account. And since Rhonda was the only one allowed to use that account, Belinda knew who the culprit was.

What should she do about that? Report her findings to the police? Call Roger Grey, the owner of the company and Rhonda’s husband, and tell him what she just discovered? Deciding on a course of action, Belinda smiled wickedly.

When Rhonda arrived to work, Belinda confronted her in her office. Rhonda denied knowing anything about that transaction, and threatened to fire Belinda, until Belinda showed her a stack of papers she had printed out that proved she was telling the truth. Feeling trapped, Rhonda confessed she had used that money to pay off her credit card debt. At that point, Belinda offered her boss a choice, Belinda would call Rhonda’s husband and tell him about that, or Belinda could give her a bare bottom paddling, with her own paddle. A paddling, Belinda promised her, would leave her big butt blistered and bruised for days. Rhonda fearfully and reluctantly, chose the paddling, but only if Belinda promised her she wouldn’t call her husband, and if she would wait until her coworkers went home.

At 5:30, Belinda was smiling satanically, Rhonda’s huge wooden paddle in her hand. Rhonda was laying across her desk, saying a silent prayer, when Belinda began to gently tap her bare bottom with the same paddle Rhonda had sat so many asses on fire with. Rhonda’s butt cheeks reminded Belinda of two super-sized scoops of vanilla ice cream. Belinda chuckled, thinking about how soon they would look like two scoops of strawberry ice cream, and then, cherry. Holding the paddle with both hands, like a baseball player on the mound, Belinda let fly with a powerful swing, the wind whistling through the holes drilled down the surface of the paddle. The crash was deafening in the small office, followed by a even louder cry from Rhonda. Rhonda flew off of her desk, her hands rubbing the burning band of red Belinda had just branded across the center of her rear. Rhonda had never been spanked before, much less paddled, and she couldn’t believe how painful a single paddle swat was. And the fire that followed. No wonder the girls in the office feared her paddle.

Belinda ordered Rhonda back across her desk, and fired another ferocious swat deep into Rhonda’s big booty, causing her butt cheeks to shake like jelly. Another glowing red welt appeared below the first, but the majority of Rhonda’s chunky cheeks were still ghostly white. Belinda planned on painting Rhonda’s entire ass crimson, even if her arm was sore by the time she was finished, but not as sore as Rhonda’s rear would be.

After a series of sizzling strikes, each burning hotter than the last, Belinda finished her devastating assault on Rhonda’s ample ass cheeks, by swinging the paddle upwards, landing forcefully where Rhonda’s bottom blended into her upper thighs, her “sit spots”, to ensure Rhonda wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for days.

Given permission to rise from her desk, Rhonda began to hop from foot to foot, shouting, “MY ASS IS ON FIRE!” while tears streamed down her face, her hands gently caressing the welts and blisters Belinda had decorated her derrière with. Running into the bathroom, she soaked papers towels in cold water, and tenderly held them against her scorching hind quarters, the damp towels doing little to quench the fires raging all across her charbroiled butt cheeks.

Returning to her office, she found Belinda sitting in her chair, still holding her paddle, smiling like The Cheshire Cat. “I won’t forget this, you German brat, the next time I have a reason to paddle you!” Rhonda said angrily. “I’m sure you won’t forget that paddling …. EVERY time you try to sit down for the rest of the month!” Belinda giggled, giving Rhonda’s big ass a final slap, before leaving the office, whistling a happy German drinking song.

Rhonda returned to her desk, and attempted to sit down, before quickly realizing that was a horrible mistake. That blonde bitch was right, she wouldn’t be able to sit down for days. But, at least, she was thankful Belinda hadn’t called her husband. Roger would had been furious if he knew she had used his company’s funds to pay off her credit card debt.

Belinda had kept her word. She hadn’t called Rhonda’s husband, Roger. She sent him a text instead. Explaining to him what she had discovered. And adding how Rhonda had agreed to let Belinda paddle her, if she didn’t call him. A paddling Belinda felt like Rhonda deserved, for paddling her unjustly yesterday.

Roger texted her back, that he was appalled to find out his wife had paddled employees who worked for a company he owned, and promised Belinda that would never happen again. He agreed that Rhonda deserved a paddling, and if Belinda gave her a good long hard paddling, he would give her a raise. And when his wife got home, he may have a “talk” with her, too. With his thick leather belt doing most of the talking. Belinda, a naughty girl who was an expert on getting spanked, added if he wanted to make a last impression on his wife, he should use a switch.

After an extremely painful ride home, Rhonda pulled into her garage. Exiting her car, she gave her still burning bottom a good rub, wishing she could go into her house, lay across her bed, with an ice pack planted on her boiling backside, and have a good cry, but how would she explain to her husband why her usually alabaster ass was currently a deep dark magenta, slowly fading into shades of purple and black? Besides, Roger had made reservations for them to eat out tonight. She hoped it wasn’t to a restaurant with hard wooden seats. Damn, that German bitch spanked HARD! At least she could take a shower before they went out. An icy cold shower! Hopefully that would snuff out the fires still raging all across her tortured tushy.

Rhonda was shocked when she opened the front door to her house and found her husband standing there, glowering at her angrily, with a thick black leather belt in one hand, and a pairing knife in the other. The perfect knife for cutting switches.