tagBDSMSpoiled Little Dutch Girl

Spoiled Little Dutch Girl

byJackInDiane©

I saw her as soon as she walked onto the train platform. Gorgeous, petite, and fair skinned... Long, fine blonde hair... Very typical Dutch girl. She must have also just come off a long haul flight like me. She was dressed almost in pajamas -- two tight camisole tops in different colors and a pair of stretchy, checkered, capri pants that were almost painted on. Her whole body was that of a lean, young girl -- small, perky breasts pressed together to create some cleavage where otherwise there would be none, just a glimpse of taut abs where her shirts ended and her pants began, and firm legs probably toned from years of riding bicycles everywhere.

Worst of all, written right across her tight ass was the word... "Spoiled".

Ah, yes... some spoiled little Dutch girl probably returning from a trip to the US. She looked a little tired, perhaps from spending mommy and daddy's money experiencing new things and cultures. That explains the more American outfit -- she's been shopping in the US, picking up on some of our unique fashion oddities.

The train arrived and I found a seat easily. The train wasn't very crowded so I was surprised to see my spoiled little Dutch girl wheel her suitcase up and select the bank of seats opposite mine. She tried to lift her case up into the small rack above the seat but struggled under its weight. Of course, every woman knows how to overstuff a suitcase, and a spoiled little girl like her probably had it packed with purchases from Manhattan boutiques or Magnificent Mile shops. I let her struggle for a moment watching her shirt ride up exposing more of her delicious skin. Her back looked like it was cut from stone it was so hard -- I decided she was probably also a swimmer. No matter how fit she was it soon became obvious that she just wasn't tall enough to wrestle the case into the rack.

"Een kleine hulp?" I stood up and lifted the case out of her arms and into the rack for her, smiling down at her as I did so. I was quite a bit taller than her so I had a wonderful view of the top swell of her breasts.

"Dank." She smiled meekly and hopped into the seat across the aisle from me.

I went back to watching out the window, thinking it best not to leer at her too obnoxiously. I was almost old enough to be her father so it was best to just admire her and move on. Unfortunately, my stop came rather soon and I dragged my suitcase down the aisle flashing her a smile as I passed. She smiled back but said nothing.

I checked into my hotel and received my usual room. I travel to Amsterdam once a month on business and know most of the hotel staff by name. I know enough Dutch to be passable and I'm always trying to pick up more. It really isn't necessary since nearly everyone in the Netherlands speaks English, but the effort does not go unnoticed by the locals. As I passed Kees, the concierge, I told him I had a new word that I needed to learn.

"What is it today?"

"Spoiled. Like a child, not a piece of fruit."

Kees laughed, "Spoiled, eh? Thinking of becoming a schoolteacher? I don't know how you'd do with a 'verwend kind' -- I think 'spoiled brat' is what you would say in America."

"Thanks, Kees -- you are the best language teacher I know! I'll buy you a pint when I see you at the pub next."

My room was as I always find it. The staff always preps the room for me the way I like it -- a vase of fresh flowers on the desk, the minibar stocked with Snickers bars and bottled water, and my favorite memory foam pillow on the bed. As a man who spends more than half the nights in a year in a hotel bed, I want to thank the man that invented the Pillow Menu. Pure genius. After a quick shower I had to pretend to be a businessman for a while and attend to meetings for the rest of the day.

Early in the evening I found myself in my favorite place to enjoy a warm summer evening -- my favorite bench in Vondel Park. I had stopped along my way to pick up some takeaway fries and a few joints from a coffeeshop I like to frequent. As I relaxed on my bench I admired all of the locals that drifted by on a Friday evening. There was the occasional walker or a beautiful woman jogging past, but for the most part this city moves on wheels. If you've never been to Amsterdam you may have a hard time picturing Friday evening rush hour -- dozens upon dozens of businessmen and businesswomen commuting home on their bicycles. Not the modern 18-speed road bikes or mountain bikes common along the lakefront in Chicago or the paths of the Jersey Shore -- picture ancient 1950's Schwinns, a single gear, wheels bent and wobbling along. As the packs travel to and fro the squeaking and creaking of the bikes is a quiet backdrop unlike the belching, screeching, and honking of roads clogged with SUVs that I'm accustomed to at home.

The women in the first wave are all in proper business attire headed from work to home or the market. As the clock ticks later the passers-by shift to women dressed for an evening of clubbing and bar-hopping. All headed to and fro on their bicycles in short skirts and high heels. Dutch women are not shy, they hike up their skirts and hop onto their bicycles no matter what they are wearing. With each pump of the pedals a little glimpse of thighs and panties peeks out from hidden places.

Sitting on my bench, watching all of the colorful scenery make its way past me I noticed a petite blonde walking my way. As she approached more closely I recognized the telltale capri pants from the train. I took my time admiring her as she passed. Her hair shined with a golden flair as the sun inched closer to the tops of the trees. I caught a sparkle of her green eyes as she passed in front of me. The look on her face told the story -- she had power over men, probably beginning with Daddy, and just recently unleashed onto all of the other males in her life. I have a weakness for Dutch women, but this girl took my breath away. I watched her tight ass tilting like a metronome as she walked away from me now -- that word tilting back and forth in my brain.

Spoiled.

In a momentary lapse of reason, I called out to her.

"Verwend Nederlands Meisje!" Spoiled little Dutch girl.

She spun on her heels, looking quickly around -- obviously not sure that I was speaking to her. She suddenly looked vulnerable. Her gaze had that questioning look that hangs in the air with raised eyebrows and downward glances. Me? I thought perhaps I had bungled the pronunciation because I had expected a fiery reply. I pointed at her ass...

"Verwend?" It was a question this time, not a statement, but my tone made it clear I was taunting her. She continued a few hesitant steps away from me.

"I'm sorry. I don't speak Dutch."

"You're an American?" Crash! My read of the situation earlier was completely off -- obviously colored by a fantasy I wanted to believe. The shift in her body language was instant. When she thought I was Dutch she seemed unsure of herself for just an instant, caught off-guard by the vulnerability of not speaking the local language. As soon as I switched back to English and she pegged me as a fellow American she stood a little taller and resumed her proud, defiant demeanor.

"Yes, I'm American... and so are you! What did you call me?!?"

I laughed to try to disarm her. "Your hair, your complexion, your eyes -- I had you pegged as a local. I read your ass and called you a 'spoiled little Dutch girl.'"

She stepped closer, slowly closing the distance between us confidently now. "Oh, yes... you're the man from the train. I can thank you properly now for helping me. Of course, I think you already got your thanks ogling me on the train platform. I could feel your eyes undressing me the whole time we waited for the train."

I smirked back at her, not content to give the upper hand to a girl half my age, even if she was the most beautiful creature I'd met in a long while. "What can I say, it's a hobby. But you're right, I suppose I should be thanking you. My apologies... I should have called you a 'spoiled little American girl' earlier. So, what are you doing in Amsterdam? Touring Europe on daddy's dime before you finish college?"

"I just turned 18 and this trip was a present from my parents."

"A present? I see, but where are your spoiled little friends to taunt all the Dutch men with you?"

"My best friend got caught drinking at a graduation party and her parents wouldn't let her go. So, I'm all alone."

"Well, why don't you have a seat and join me for what you came here for then?" I offered her one of the joints I'd bought. She looked at me uncertain of whether to trust me but ultimately extended her hand and took one. I lit us both up and we took deep drags from our marijuana cigarettes, saying nothing.

She shifted from foot to foot still standing in front of me. After the first few drags of smoke hit her she started to get cocky again. "So? Are you trying to get me stoned to take advantage of me?" She stuck her perky tits out proudly as she said it.

"Oh no... I was just trying to be friendly but now that I know whom I'm dealing with, I was thinking that I know how to deal with spoiled little girls like you." I let my eyes dance over her whole body not even trying to disguise my lust.

"Oh? You think that you're going to seduce me and have your way with me?" She leaned her body toward me trying to tease me. Her hair glowed in the fading light as the sun was finally making its way to the horizon.

"No, I think that you've had every boy you meet wrapped around your little finger since you hit puberty and I think someone needs to put you back in your place. Spoiled little girls don't always get what they want, you know. Someday a man will teach you that!"

With one hand she grabbed her top between her breasts and pulled it down slightly exposing more and more of her young, firm breasts. The other she ran seductively down her side across her little hips. "I ALWAYS get what I want. I don't think you or anyone else are going to teach me anything."

"Really? Is that a dare, young lady? Should I show you how I handle spoiled little girls? You think that you're going to go through life manipulating men to always get what you want?"

She looked me right in the eye, nodding slowly, and just said, "Mmmm hmmm. How DO you handle spoiled little girls?" The flirtatious note in her voice was beginning to turn me on.

"Where I come from, spoiled little girls who misbehave get spankings." She began laughing, partly to taunt me and partly as the pot was giving her the giggles. She spread her arms wide, beckoning me on as if to ask, "What are you waiting for?"

The passers-by had tapered off and a few people were walking along the main path a short distance away leaving us essentially alone. I took one last drag off of my joint and dropped it in the dust in front of me. I sat still for a few moments without breaking eye contact and then let a big smile come over my face. Moving as fast as I could I pulled her toward me and pitched her forward over my lap. She kept laughing and wiggled her ass at my face, continuing to taunt me. I ran my hand over her tight ass, savoring the feel of it in my hand, reading that word over and over.

"Oooooh. Are you going to give me a spanking?" She was trying to get control over me, pulling me into her trap with her sweet body.

I wasn't going to have any of that -- I was going to show her who was in control here. I grabbed her waistband in my hand and gave it a quick, firm tug. In one quick motion her ass was naked before me, having taken her thong panties down with the pants.

The power was gone in her voice when she squeaked out, "Stop it. Let me go! What do you think you are doing?" She tried to push off of my lap to get up but all she accomplished was opening up a space between us. With another quick tug her pants were at her ankles, feet kicking harmlessly in the air while I held her on my lap. The light was waning but there was still enough to see that her ass was damn near perfect -- rounded globes of firm flesh that topped her lean legs.

"Everyone knows that a spanking is meant to be delivered on a bare ass!"

Crack! I drew my hand back and gave her a firm slap across one of the perfect cheeks of her ass. She squealed at the stinging pain. I pulled back and delivered another one across the other cheek. She was struggling now, trying to raise herself off of my lap. She tried to get her arms back to protect her delicate ass from my hand. I used one arm to pin her arms to her side leaving her exposed to each new slap.

"Let me go! You can't do that to me in the middle of a public park! Someone is going to see me!" She wasn't quite yelling, but raised her voice as if to threaten to. There were several people walking the main path that would easily have heard her if she had chosen to yell or scream.

"Of course they will if you keep yelling like that." Crack! Another slap across the ass. Crack, crack! Two in rapid succession. I delivered one slap after the other, sometimes alternating cheek to cheek, sometimes concentrating on one for a few in a row, never getting into a rhythm. Instead I kept her guessing, never knowing when to expect the next one.

"Scream all you want, let's get everyone over here to see that perfect little ass waiving around in the park. Maybe I should call everyone over to get the view I'm missing, your cute little pussy peeking out from between your legs as they waive in the air? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Her ass was now hot under my hand and probably glowing with the red marks I was leaving.

"Please! Please stop! No more." Her hair was flying about as she struggled, flowing down over her face.

"Not until I've taught you a lesson, you little cock tease!" My cock was so hard it hurt, pressing against her naked crotch through my pants. I delivered a few more hard slaps as she sobbed on my lap and then I stopped resting my hand on her ass. Her breathing was heavy, rising and falling on my lap. The pressure was delicious and I wished my pants weren't in the way and that my cock was pressed directly against her flesh. Her shirts had ridden up and were now bunched around her tits leaving her naked from her ribs to her ankles.

I couldn't resist any longer and I slipped my hand down to her pussy to feel it. Her lips were soft and smooth, shaved bare -- no surprise. I was surprised, however, to find it dripping wet and open to my fingers. "You little slut! You liked that!" I slipped a finger inside and she gasped, starting to struggle again. After thrusting in and out of her a few times I slipped my finger forward and felt for her clit. The little bud was as hard as a rock and sticking out like a mini-penis through her folds.

"Do you like showing off your pussy to strange men? You like being spanked on the ass like a naughty girl should? Can you feel all the men staring at your ass right now?"

She sobbed, "No... No!" but with little conviction as I rubbed her clit harder and faster. She was fighting her body, but she was losing, getting closer and closer to her peak. When she finally went over the edge I pressed hard into her clit, pinching it between two fingers as her whole body spasmed. Her cum spurted onto my hand, two then finally three times as she grunted in time with each wave. I eased up the pressure on her clit as she came down, finally slipping my finger back into her pussy and holding it there.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it? Now we know what a slut you really are. Now you know what happens to spoiled little cock teases like you." I slipped my finger out of her drenched pussy, causing a small moan to escape her lips.

I grabbed around the waist and lifted her easily off of me standing her up. Her face was streaked with tears as she looked at me totally confused. Her hair was a mess, strands flying in every direction and sticking to her forehead, partially covering her face. She was pouting, obviously with no idea how to understand what just happened. I finally got a good look at her pussy, lips peaking out, decorated with a little tuft of blonde hair on top.

"Oh, look, your cum left a stain on my jeans. Oh well..." I wiped more of her cum from my hand onto my pants and reached out to pull her pants back up. She suddenly remembered that she was standing in a public park at dusk naked from the waist down. She quickly pulled her pants up and smoothed her tops back down.

She stood there looking at me without saying a word yet made no effort to leave. I took out a slip of paper and wrote the name of my hotel and room number on it. She wiped her face clear of tears with her arm and watched me. I handed her the slip of paper.

"My name is Jack." I stood up, gathered my things, leaned down, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and walked away.

When I got to my room I was tempted to beat off since I was hard as an iron pike even after the 10 minute walk to the hotel. Of course, periodically sucking and smelling my finger wasn't helping matters any. Instead, I just stripped down and took a quick shower. As I was drying myself off I heard a knock at my door. I wrapped the towel around me and stepped out of the bathroom. Looking through the peep hole, I threw the towel back into the bathroom and opened the door. I stood there naked, my semi-rigid cock hanging down.

There she stood, my spoiled little Dutch girl with her bag from the train. She was clearly nervous, her boastful attitude from before still gone. She looked at my cock which was rapidly rising as I contemplated fucking her soundly in every way I knew how. I said nothing -- I wasn't going to make this easy for her.

"My name is Mieke."

And with that I stepped to the side as she walked into my hotel room.

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