The Perils of Paula

12Nov10

Fridday 12th November, Istanbul

Dear Diary,

I met this cute Australian boy on Sunday.

We had a great time on the beach, although he wasn’t that impressed with the sea as he said he couldn’t go surfing. I didn’t know why and told him so. A funny look came over his face when I asked this simple question.

“Because there is no…” his friend started to tell me, “…no way you would be able to do proper surfing,” the cute boy finished.

Did I tell you he was called Pete by the way? I forget his friend’s name. Well I told Pete that I liked a challenge and I could do anything that he could do. Although I had to admit that I didn’t know anything about proper surfing.

“Oh it’s easy,” Pete said. “It’s just that you have to take all your clothes off.”

I was puzzled by this, as I was sure that it involved a big board, but even Pete’s friend agreed he was right. After a half hour of ‘surfing’ – I have to say that it seemed more like skinny dipping to me, Pete and I got very friendly. So friendly in fact that Pete’s friend left us alone. I had just decided that I had been tricked and that didn’t mind when I saw Mr Khan standing on the beach watching me.

I smiled and was about to introduce him to Pete when I remembered that I was still naked. I already knew that Mr Khan was a bit old fashioned, so I wasn’t surprised when he got a bit cross. Well more than a bit cross, if I am honest. He was so mad that Pete decided he had to leave.

After that Mr Khan hardly let me get dressed before he dragged me back home.

I knew what was coming next.

There was a lot of angry shouting in Turkish between Mr and Mrs Khan and Mrs Khan went to get her belt. I was pleading with Mr Khan and telling him I knew he should spank me but not with the belt.

“You get over the table, I wheep you good.” Mr Khan yelled.

He was too scary for me to argue, so I did as I was told.

It was then that I realised that I had left my knickers on the beach. Why do I always lose my underwear? At least it made it easier to bare my bottom for the strap.

I was angry with myself for getting into trouble again. I could hardly blame Mr Khan for needing to punish me again, I only had myself to blame. So as I bent over I pushed my bottom as I knew was expected of me.

Mr Khan yelled at me in Turkish for a while before the first blast of the leather took me across both buttocks.

I have to tell you that I started yelling my head off and was still in mid yelp when the second blast of pain was added to the first. OK so I deserved it, but this was going to be bad.

I have no idea how long I was strapped for and by the time I was half pushed and half dragged to the corner I was in bits.

I am not sure that I am going to be sitting any time soon.

The thing that worries me is that the last thing Mr Khan said was that he was going to take me in hand. Well if he hadn’t already I don’t know what he means.



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