Ivy returns to Walt and his princess

The story begins with Walt and his princess.

Ivy wandered the dormitory aimlessly while she attempted to absorb what she just witnessed. Her mind floated along in the same manner as her feet, first questions if it really was Jessie standing there, then if it was some kind of prank to more intimate questions whose obvious answers sent shivers down her spine. Insignificant of the question, or the implications presented by their possible answers, Ivy’s mind kept flashing back to the portrait of her room.

Like every wandering path, they always lead to an answer. Ivy’s happened to end at the door of her own room. Instinctively she started fishing through her pockets for her keys but on the second go around she realized they were sitting on the dresser, next to the door. In her haste to escape she had forgot her keys. Knocking was her only choice. It was definitely preferable to walking in on something like she did earlier.

Jessie took a quick peek through the peephole before slowly opening the door, hiding herself behind the door. Ivy entered hesitantly, unsure what she would find. Her mind had created some crazy ideas of what she would find, but none of it prepared her for reality. Walt and Jessie were dressed just like they had been previously, except Jessie’s shorts were in their correct location. Perfectly normal.

Everyone looked at each other in silence, waiting for someone to speak first. Walt believed it would be more appropriate for Jessie to start, though she couldn’t form the correct words in her head.

“I’m sorry I burst in before. I didn’t realize.” Ivy apologized suddenly.

“It’s OK.” Jessie mumbled. She flashed a quick glance down at Walt and he got the message loud and clear.

“I’m a little hungry. How would you ladies like a pizza?” Walt said, standing up from his seat on the futon.

“Ah, ok.” Ivy accepted politely. She was much more interested in the prospect of getting some alone time with Jessie than food, but college taught her never to refuse free food.

“Supreme, please?” Jessie asked, looking down and slightly rolling her shoulders in her best “I’m Your Princess” look. Walt gave her half smile, signally she was pushing it, but would get her way.

The last thing Walt heard as he closed the door behind himself was Ivy saying, “You get spanked!?”

Walt contemplating taking his truck across campus to the good local pizza joint, though the thought of finding a parking he could fit into dashed the idea. They would suffer with the chain place at the edge of campus. A block walk wouldn’t be too bad in the chilly Autumn air.

Walt knocked on Jessie and Ivy’s door about 30 minutes later, holding a cool large supreme pizza. Jessie opened the door a moment later, ushering him to the futon. He sat the box down on the small TV tray they had set up and each took a slice. The silence as they ate simply built upon the tense present since Walt had returned.

Ivy finally couldn’t take it any more and dropped her half-ate piece on the box. “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. It was my fault, not Jessie’s. She shouldn’t have been sp..sp.. punished because of me. I was just lonely. And..and the party seemed like a good chance to meet someone and she didn’t want to go. She really didn’t. I convinced her. Then she didn’t want to drink, but I made her and she wanted to go home but I won’t. She was just being a good friend. It wasn’t her fault.”

Walt sat back and acted like a priest, allowing her to confess all her sins. He knew it would probably be the last saintly thing he did that evening. Jessie had explained everything to Walt while Ivy was wandering the dorm, but he wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth. He wanted to make sure everyone was on the same page because things would turn sour quickly if either of the girls misunderstood his next actions.

“What do you propose?” Walt asked when Ivy stopped for more than a moment.

“Hmm…that I…hmmm…get…the same…” Ivy stammered.

Walt could see her attempt to skirt the issue by avoiding the magic word. “Which would be?”

Ivy played with the hem of her sweater just like Jessie did when she was in trouble. Walt had to take a deep breath to prevent a broad smile from spreading across his lips. He added a little angle to his eyebrows to increase the pressure on Ivy, and reinforce the seriousness of the situation she was attempting to place herself in.

“Ah…spaaannnking.” Ivy finally said, barely holding back the tears she could feel forming at the edges of her eyes.

“And what kind of spanking do you deserve?” Walt asked. Clarity was essential for the punishment to work, but was especially important due to the lack of any relationship between Walt and Ivy.

“Hu?” Ivy didn’t really understand the question.

“Jessie got it bare-bottom with the hairbrush. Do you believe you deserve a spanking exactly like the one Jessie received?”

“Yes…” Ivy eked out.

Walt stood up and gave one last look at Jessie before continuing. His princess stood in nearly the same spot where she had been an hour earlier when Ivy walked in, albeit facing the room rather than the wall. Her left thumb was firmly pressed against her lips as she attempt to avoid chewing on her nails. A quick little nod sent Walt attention back to her roommate.

“OK, bend over your desk with your forearms flat on the desk.”

Ivy kept her head down as she looked sideways at Jessie then back to Walt. She knew she was the perpetuator of this situation and retreating at this point scared her more than continuing.

She sulked over to her desk and bent over as was requested.

Walt scooped up the hairbrush off Jessie’s desk before getting into position behind Ivy. “Jessie got 18, 42 then 25 swats. She knew better than to slack off and since this is your first time, I am going to half the number for you, this time.”

Jessie didn’t miss the sigh of relief from the bent girl. She wished Walt would have let her off that easy. From his previous comments, she was a little worried he might bend her over again once he completed with Ivy.

“Naughty girls don’t get to keep their panties up.” Walt leaned forward slightly, hooking his index fingers under her waistband. After a pause he slowly pulled them down until her yoga pants and panties were at mid thigh. He took a step to his left, presenting the virgin bottom to the room.

“Do not stand up until I tell you, nor attempt to reach back and cover you bottom, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Ivy didn’t know why she added sir, but it seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

“OUCH!” Ivy yelped. The first swat bit hard into her soft flesh, sending ripples flowing out while leaving an angry red oval behind.

“Awwwooocchhhheee!” Ivy wiggled her bottom about as the second swat landed on her other cheek.

“I hope you now understand this isn’t no joke.”

“ahh.. yes sir..AHHHH!” Ivy was interrupted by another swat biting down.

Ivy tried to stay strong, like she had read in all those stories, but reality hurt too much. Tears streamed down her face as Walt reached a dozen. Her emotions flowed with the tears, paying games in her head. She flashed from thankful to resentful to asking herself why she even thought this was a good idea. Resent faded around the second dozen and by the end of the third dozen, she was only thankful. Thankful, sorry and sore.

“I think that is enough for now. You can get up and place yourself against the wall like you saw Jessie earlier.” Walt took a step back from the crying girl and looked at his girl. She still at her thumb at her lips. “Have you been chewing on your nails?”

“No Sire!” Jessie said quickly, removing her hand from in front of her face.

“Good.” He said while stretching out his right shoulder. All that spanking begins to hurt he thought to himself. He chuckled at the joke, even if the girls wouldn’t have agreed it was funny.

Ivy moved to the prescribed spot and Walt returned to his previous seat on the futon, leaving Jessie standing awkwardly in the center of the room. Her bottom had a mild throb and she didn’t want to entice any new fire down here by sitting down, but she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable the longer she just stood there. She thought about laying down on her bed, but she was concerned he might think she was being antisocial and give her tail another workout.

She settled on a half sitting/half leaning against Walt position on the futon as he watched the news.

“Are you going home tonight or staying here?” Jessie asked Walt at the commercial break between news programs.

“I brought an overnight bag in case it got to late. I figure I should run out and grab it,” Walt got up and started towards the door, with Jessie in tow.

“I love you Daddy!” Jessie said quietly when they reached to door, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug.

Walt bent down and kissed Jessie before opening the door. “I almost forgot, your mom called yesterday and said your parents would be arriving on Tuesday next week.”

“Why did she call you?”

“You dad wanted to ask if I could hide your Christmas present so they could fly up at Christmas.”

“You aren’t going to let me peak are you!?” Jessie narrowed her eyes at Walt. Her eyes popped back open when Walt’s hand swatted down onto her backside. “Ouch!”

“Not unless you’d prefer more of that,” Walt smirked.

Jessie twisted her mouth to the side as she contemplated her husband’s offer. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Walt and his princess

Walt tried to focus on road and not the destination. It was especially hard to do this evening because of the stressful cause of this trip. Normally he preferred to make this trip in the daylight, rather than the darkened evening of late autumn. A few light flurries didn’t help circumstances.

The small city appeared suddenly out of the corn fields and patches of woods. It was a quaint town, with a couple dozen small business focused on serving the towns primary employer or the dozens of farmers in the surrounding countryside. It was at this point in the drive that Walt often yearned to sell his house in the larger city and move out here. The thought of at least an hour commute to work every morning always quashed the dream.

Walt made his way down the two lane streets, occasionally turning right or left as needed. Arriving at his destination, he was happily surprised to find an empty angle parking spot. Often he had to drive around the block a few times to find one or try to parallel park the 3/4 ton Silverado. The later would be a torture even the best driving instructor, especially with the popularity of Honda Civic’s in the area.

The burly construction manager overtook the building with the determination of a Caesar conquering Gaul. The night security guard only gave a half-hearted attempt to interrupt his progress. The comfortable confines of his desk and the fact Walt appeared to have 6 inches, 50 pounds and 30 years on the teenager did help persuade him into any real action. Walt didn’t pay his meek questions any notice, entering the stairwell and climbing to the 4th floor, two stairs at a time.


“Daddy!?” Jessie exclaimed with a clear mixture of excitement and trepidation. She was always happy to see him, though worried why he hadn’t called. Her concerns didn’t prevent her from attacking him with a bear hug.

“Hi baby,” Walt replied damply, though joining his offspring in the warm embrace for a moment.

“So why are you here?” she asked, ushering him into her dorm room. She picked up on his sullen attitude as soon as she closed the door. “It isn’t Grandma Winthrop, is it?”

“No, no, Grandma Winthrop is actually doing better. The new medication is really helping.”

“Oh, good,” she relaxed into her desk chair at the good news. “So why are you here?”

“Well, we need to talk.” he said as he unclipped his phone from its holster.

Those four words sent a shiver down the girl’s spine. Walt only ever used that phrase when he needed to have a serious discussion with her, and if grandma was doing better, it probably involved her.

“I found these online yesterday and I wanted to discuss them with you.” He made a few swipes on his phone before passing the device to her.

She already knew the basic premise of the phone’s content, the extend of content was the only question. It only took her a glance to know he had seen everything.

“You care to explain?”

“Daddy…hmmm….hmmm…I can explain…I…” She knew lying would make her predicament worst though saying the truth would probably make things worst also. Nothing was her best bet.

“You skipped class, went out partying when you should have been studying and then failed your exam? That sound about right?” Walt glare bored straight into Jessie’ soul.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, looking down to avoid the look of disappointment wrote across his face.

“You are always sorry that you got caught, I am disappointed that you put yourself in this situation.” He let the words soak in for a few moments as he looked down onto the pig-tails sprouting from her head. He was glad she was too ashamed to look at him, because she could bring him to his knees at will.

“I now, I’m sorry,” her voice faded off with each word.

“You know what this means. Now where is my princess’ hairbrush?”

“DADDY!” Jessie squealed, instantly regaining her composure. “PLEASE NOT HERE!”

“Yes here,” he stated. “your hairbrush?”

“Please!” she tried again, raising her voice slightly while opening her eyes extra wide. He responded with a harder glare, reminding himself he had to be strong. He knew if she really started pouting, she’d melt his heart and he’d just forgive her.

She was doomed and there was nothing she could do now to save herself. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. She swept her eyes down and away from Walt’s glare. “It’s there some other way?” she asked, even as she fetched the wooden hairbrush from atop her dresser.

She stared at the highly polished maple backside for a moment, remembering an incident shortly after she moved into the dorms. Ivy and her had been getting ready to go out when her roommate commented about what a nice hairbrush she had. It hadn’t been her intention to bring it with her to college, rather it was insisted upon her.

“Come on, no more dawdling.” She handed him the instrument of doom, then played with the hem of her college sweatshirt as she waited for more instructions. He hadn’t yet sat down, so she doubted she’d be going over his lap. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing, since going over his lap meant a more embarrassing, thought generally less painful spanking.

“Where is your exam at?” Without thinking, she turned and fished the stapled sheets from a folder on her desk. “I’ll take that. Get out a sheet of paper and something to write with. We are going to go through your exam until you know ever answer.”

She groaned at the revelation, though fetched a blank sheet of paper and a mechanical pencil.

“Bend over your desk,” he commanded. Initially she had her legs quite close to the back of her pushed-in desk chair, though a few taps with the hairbrush on the top of her thighs prompted her to move her feet backwards, until her torso was nearly horizontal. Walt wasted no time preparing his target by dropping Jessie’ shorts and panties.

“What is the formula for the measurement of kinetic energy?” he asked.

“KE equals mass times velocity squared.” she answered with as much confidence allowed by her vulnerable position. CRACK! “Aheee” she cried out when the hairbrush bit into her tender flesh.

“Correct,” he stated. “What is the formula for momentum?”

“ah…force times … ah ….mass?” she answered then tensed up in preparation for another spank. He didn’t disappoint, bringing the makeshift paddle down in five quick blows.

“Wrong. Momentum is mass times velocity.”

Walt continued through her exam, giving her a single swat for correct answers and five for incorrect answers. She passed through the ten multiple choice questions with only 18 swats. It was more than enough to focus her attention on her stinging bottom, thought not quite enough to draw out more than the occasional tear.

The short answer questions were her downfall, on both the exam and her current resolve. She only answered two of the ten correctly, and paid for it. The sting of the little paddle quickly overtook her, reducing her to a teary mess. Jessie could barely see the sheet of paper in front of her when they reached the calculation problems.

She didn’t even try on the five calculation problems, simply surrendering to the fact she would take another 25 swats and hopefully it would be over. When Walt noticed her giving up, it actually became easier for him to spank her. Until this point, every tear she shed drove a spike into his heart, but when she gave up, it reinvigorated his annoyance with her. Her lack of determination was a constant conflict between them, often ending with her in a similar position.

Walt removed his hand from her lower back and she instantly bolted upright. She danced in a circle, clutching her flaming bottom. He scratched his eyebrow, avoiding watching her obscene gesture while he gave her a few moments to regain her senses. “Why don’t you go stand over there for a while,” he said pointing to the only clear section of wall in the dorm room.

Whipping tears from her eyes, Jessie obeyed him with tiny steps. She knew what was expected and crossing her arms behind her while holding up the back of her sweatshirt. Her glowing bottom would be on display for some unknown length of time and she just hoped it ended before Ivy returned. What would Ivy say, she asked herself. Any response would be mortifying.

Walt took a seat on the futon and flipped on the News. He would have preferred to read the paper or anything quietly, though in his haste he had forgot to grab it. The News would have to do, even if it gave Jessie a sense of time. An hour of reflection though would do her well.

Forty minutes into Jessie’s vigil, Ivy decided to crash the party, sweeping into the room before Walt or Jessie could react.

“Hello,” Ivy said, tossing her book-bag onto the futon next to Walt. “Jessie, you didn’t say….”

“YEEKS!” Jessie screeched, at the intrusion. She instinctively turned to her right, away from Ivy and Walt, while shielding her front by pulling he sweatshirt down. The action had the undesirable effect of highlighting what had only been slightly noticeable under the back of the over-sized shirt.

“Uhmmm Uhmmm, sorry,” Ivy grabbed her book-bag and almost ran out the door.

To be Continued…

Bonus points for anyone who figures out what happens in part II. 🙂

In the Back Office of the Leopard Lounge

“Why do they always want to go to the Leopard Lounge?” Mike complained while stuffing the last of the contracts into his Attache folder.

“Come on, What man doesn’t like going to the strip club, AND having the company pay for it!” Lee shot back.

“One with a pair of daughters the same age as those girls on the stage. I can’t believe any parent would allow their daughter to do such degrading acts.”
BOOM boom boom BOOM boom boom! The base rocked through the small private room. A pair of half-naked women ground their bodies together in front of Mike and Lee’s foreign guests. Mike bet himself it would take two more hours of this, and more importantly another bottle of Johnny Walker Black, to get the deal done. If it wasn’t for the 1.4 million commission he wouldn’t put up with this shit anymore. He could feel the ache in his knees from the long day and sitting in one spot for too long. A walk to the restroom would loosen them up he though. They probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

Mike left the Champagne room to make his way through the main club as the lights dimmed followed by BeBeBeBe Boom blaring through the speakers. “Milk! Milk! Lemonade! Round the back’s where chocolate’s made!” Filled the club over and over in an electronic voice. Mike could just make out the silhouette of a girl shaking her ass on stage.
“I know you’re thirsty baby standing in the heat” a female voice sung as the spotlights highlighted the backside of the dancer. She danced to the beat in a short white lab coat like jacket. Mike thought it looked like a demented version of those old milk man uniforms. Also the voice reminded him of Katy Perry. He could pick out the voice anywhere since his eldest daughter became completely obsessed with the singer. He slipped past a server and around the back of the island bar.

The girl pranced up and down the runway a few times, working up the crowd’s anticipation. “Don’t you know that its so delicious, yummy and new!” The girl faced the back wall and whipped off the jacket, revealing a yellow and white string bikini. “But first comes, first serves so bottom’s up!” the speakers sung while the girl dropped low then shot her ass into the air on the ‘bottom’s up’ phrase.

She shot up, and spun around to face the crowd just in time to grab a hold of each breast in time with the lyrics “Milk! Milk!” then planted her palm firmly on her crotch at “Lemonade!” She turned to her side, starting directly at a guy in the front room as she slide her right finger from her tit down her side and slapped her ass on “made!”. The guy started hooting and hollering throwing bills at her.

Mike rounded the bar and looked at the stage as the girl repeated the performance for another audience member. Her back was mostly turned to Mike so he couldn’t see much. She turned again, this time directly facing Mike’s direction. He shook his head and blinked. He could not believe his eyes. He made straight for the front row.

The girl closed her eyes and turned to her left, starting the few moves again at the beginning. “Milk, Milk, Lemonade!” She slowly opened her eyes to glance at her new target while she traced her curves. There stood Mike.

“AAAAHHHHHHH!” the girl screamed. She spun around and ran as fast as the high heels would allow to the stage exit. Mike weaved his way around the patrons and reached the doorway before the girl.

“Daddy!” the girl cried when Mike snatched her up. The bouncer was on top of Mike immediately, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder and pulled Mike backwards while placing himself between Mike and the girl.

“Hold up” a baritone voice echoed came from behind the bouncer. “Missy,” the older and very well dressed gentleman spoke from his table. “Is this man really your father?”

“Yes” the girl mumbled.

“Damn right she is and we have a few things to discuss,” Mike pitched in.

“Understandably so,” the man at the table said, “let go back to my office.” The bouncer released the pair allowing them to follow the club owner into the back. The girl kept her eyes on the floor as she walked between the owner and her father.

Mike entered the owner’s office to find it very well appointed, and oddly professional. The owner was dressed to the nines and his office reflected this sophisticated style. Mahogany wood paneling lined the walls, matching the expansive desk. A name plaque read “Quincey Debluff” in gold lettering.

“Please have a seat,” Quincey motioned to a pair of leather chairs in front of the desk. He took his place behind the desk and extracted a manilla folder from the drawer. Quincy look straight at Mike asking, “Is she a minor?”

“No, she’s 25.” Mike responded with a deep sigh.

“Good. Then everything here is legal.” Quincey stated.

“Legal or not, no daughter of mine will be a stripper!” Mike yelled at his daughter.

“I’m sorry daddy! I needed the extra money and Izzy and I thought it would be fun and easy!” she cried.

“Fun and easy! Where the hell did that come from? And Izzy is her also!?” Mike light into his daughter.

Quincey thumbed through the other applications from tonight’s amateur night. Izzy must be this Isabella Jarkina. Pretty little thing.

“Was it your idea or hers to strip? And why in hell did you need the money?” Mike yelled.

“I’m sorry daddy. We saw the sign together.”

“Why don’t I give you two a moment and I’ll go find miss Jarkina?” Quincey could read Mike’s face like a book. He was Mike was embarrassed would prefer a little privacy to deal with his daughter. Quincey couldn’t blame the man, he’d be just as pissed to find his daughter on stage.

“Thank you, that would be much appreciated.” Mike said as kindly as he could.

Quincey closed the door behind him and headed towards the dressing room. It took him a few minutes to find Isabella, getting ready at a mirror in the back. She wore a baby blue mesh pants and blouse over a matching bra and panty set. The Harlem girl look matched up well with her dark almond skin and black hair.

“Miss Jarkina, please come with me.” Quincey told her.

Izzy twisted her body to the right so she could see who was speaking to her. The sharply dressed man surprised her a little. “Is there something wrong?”

“Just please come with me.” Quincey repeated, waving his hand towards the door. Isabella sat down the mascara pencil and follow the man’s prompts towards the doorway. She did what he wanted but they didn’t just let anyone in the back. He was dressed too well to be a bouncer. Maybe the owner wanted to see her. Maybe he wanted to feature her, or was there something wrong with her application? She couldn’t get kicked out before performing! She needed at least the tips.

“What is wrong?” Izzy asked but Quincey just ignored her, directing the girl towards his office.

Quincey opened his office door to find the girl’s bare bottom pointed straight at him. Mike cracked his belt crisply down on the girl’s already pink bottom. His left hand held her flat across Quincey’s desk.

“Ah” the girl cried out as the leather bit into her flesh. Another red bar painted across the bare bottom.

“Ally,” cried Izzy when she saw her friend bent over the desk. Mike just ignored their guests and spanked Ally again.

“Ahhh snifff.” Ally didn’t even realize her friend was there until she felt Izzy’s hand touch her bottom.

“Please stop Mr Pawinski!” Izzy cried covering her friend’s butt with her forearms.

Quincey closed the door and took up post next to it. He’d seen everything, but it had been a while since a girl was spanked over his desk.

“Izzy move now!”

“PLEASE Daddy!” Ally cried, twisting around to face her father.

“Get your ass back in position. I’m only half done with you. And you!” Mike pointed the belt at Izzy “Get over to the wall, because I know your father going give you the same when I get you home. You won’t want to make it any worst!”

Izzy’s hands flew to her own bottom, “Please don’t tell my parents! PLEASE!!!!!!” she cried.

“You deserve the same as Ally, no stop crying and move!”

“Fine, just don’t tell my parents!” Izzy cried. That belt looked viscous, but had to be better than her parents finding out.

“OK, your next, now move!” Mike barked. Izzy took a few steps back keeping her hands on bottom.

“Ah, Spanking your own daughter is one thing, but someone else’s is taking it a little far,” Quincey but in.

“It’s ok.” Izzy mumbled.

Quincey thought through the implications for a moment. If she signed something than he couldn’t really be sued, successfully. He pulled a sheet of paper and pen from a side table and set it on top. “Then write that out and sign it.” he commanded.

Izzy shuffled her feet over to Quincey as Mike got back to work.

CRACK! “I agree to Mr.” CRACK! “Pawinski spanking me for” CRACK! “being at Leopard Lounge” CRACK! “and stripping” CRACK! “at the amateur CRACK! “night contest.” CRACK! “In exchange” CRACK! “He won’t tell my” CRACK! “parents about it” CRACK! “Isabella Jarkina”

Mike laid into his daughter with half a dozen quick, hard swipes, turning her into a sobbing mess. He took a breath and reviewed candy apple red tint to her bottom. Adequate for now he reckoned. Her mother wouldn’t agree though.

“That’s enough for now. Get up and get your nose to the wall,” Mike commanded of his daughter. Ally reached back with both hands, rubbing out some of the burn before easing herself up and shuffling over to the wall.

“Izzy over the desk” Mike waved the belt at his daughter’s friend. The girl meekly followed the directions. She could feel Ally’s warmth radiating from the hard wood. Getting her face close, she could see a few tears laying on the polished surface.

Mike pulled the belt back when Quincey interrupted him again, “Ah is that my costume?”

“Yesss…” Izzy mumbled.

“The you either remove it or you’ll pay for any damages,” Quincey informed the girl.

“Yes sir” Izzy agreed.

“Do you have enough money to pay for it?” Mike asked.

“Ah…no sir. Please be careful.” Izzy cried.

“Take it off then.” Mike said dryly. Izzy let out a sniffle then reached down to her waistband. She eased her hips off the desk then slide the pants and bikini bottoms down, revealing a golden canvas for Mike.

Mike set his left hand on the girl’s lower back then cracked the belt across the center.

“Ahhh” Izzy cried out. Mike was unphased and made quick work of the girl’s bottom. He colored it red from the top of the cheeks to midway down her thighs. He paused for a moment before laying 6 hard swats across her sit spot, eliciting a fresh cry and a couple of kicks each time.

“You can go join Ally for the moment” Mike said in a huff. He turned to Quincey as Izzy moved off the desk, rubbing her bottom all the way. “I should get these girls home. Where are their clothes?”

“I’ll have them brought here.” Quincey walked over to his desk and made a quick call. Barely a minute later a regular appeared at the door with 2 plastic bags.

“Get dressed quickly!” Mike told the two girls. They covered their crotches with on hand while taking their plastic bag with the other.

Ally looked around for a moment before asking “Where?”

“Right here, and be quick!” Mike snapped. Both girls could see arguing would only involve more of the belt. They turned their backs to the men before kneeling down and finding their panties. It only took a few painful moments for them to slip on their panties, wiggle into the tight fitting jeans and swap their costume bras for their own bra and t-shirts.

“Silver will show you out the side door, and girls, please do not come back.” Quincey said as he escorted the group out his door.

Quincey closed the door and returned to his desk. Damn that was sexy, he though. Maybe he could make it into a Tuesday night special. Probably should review the security tapes for any more ideas. A few key strokes was all it took to bring up an image of himself sitting at his desk.

Buttered Buns

I do not belong in the restaurant business. Well let me take that back, since I now own half a dozen restaurants. I do not belong in the restaurant business as a waitress. I learned that while working my way through school. I was working full time at a clothing store in the mall while studying business administration at the local university when a friend of mine recommended I apply at the restaurant where she worked. Every waitress there was making more than I was so I figured why not. On Cathy’s recommendation I got the job.

I started just after the spring term ended so that I’d have 3 full weeks to focus on work before the summer term started. The first few days I went through training during the mid-morning and afternoon lulls then would work as a hostess during lunch time to get a flow of things when it was busy. On the third day I got 3 tables of my own and I did OK. I messed up one order and broke two glasses. The fourth day didn’t go much better, as I messed up 3 orders and spilled a tray of food all over the kitchen. Diane, the owner, chewed me out in that motherly, ‘I’m disappointed in your actions’ type way. She also made it clear I needed to improve fast, or I couldn’t continue. I felt so horrible when I went home that night and pledged to myself I’d do better then next day.

The next day one of the waitresses called in sick which short staffed us. Then around 10:30 another waitress got sick and Diane sent her straight home. It’s not good for a restaurant to have someone throwing up in the bathroom. It turnout she was pregnant and that was the first of many episodes of morning sickness. Her little girl is so adorable, but that’s a different story. In summary, I had six tables during the Friday lunch rush.

It turned out that six tables were five too many. During the 2 hour lunch period, I dropped three glasses, two of which where half-full, messed up 4 orders and tripped over a gentleman’s attache case, spilling a try of food across that floor. As soon as the crowd died down, Diane had the other waitresses cover my tables and sent for me upstairs in her office. I knew she was going to sack me, but I really needed the job and started crying before I even made it to her office.

“Brittney, yes come in,” Diane said as she opened the door. I was ushered in front of her desk as she closed the door behind me and returned to her chair.

“Please don’t fire me,” I blurted out before she had a chance to say anything.

“Why shouldn’t I? You clearly know you’ve been doing a bad job and I rightfully should fire you,” Diane said as she leaned back in her chair.

“I’m really trying and I swear I’ll do better. I just haven’t grasped everything yet.” A tear ran down my cheek.

“You’ve gotten worst as the days have went by. I’m worried you’ll hurt a customer next if I don’t fire you. Why should I keep you?”

“I’ll try really hard to be better and.. and… I really need the money, and my mom will kill me if I get fired.”

“I don’t she’ll actually kill you for being fired.”

“But I’ll feel like dying once she gets done with me.”

“Being yelled at and feeling guilty at doing a poor job is part of growing up.”

“If only it was guilt,” I said under my breath. This got Diane to raise an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, ‘if it was only guilt’?” Diane asked.

I began to deeply blush that Diane had heard my slip. Should I tell her? “Hmm…oh nothing.”

“Come on, your blushing profusely. What did you mean?” Could I trust her with my secret? I only knew complete professionalism out of her and maybe it’d get me a second chance. Ok, I’d go for it. “Well… I’ll get… hmmm… punished for being fired.” Diane just cocked her head to the side, knowing there was more to it. “with a hairbrush.”

“You mean spanked?” Diane asked for clarification.

“Yes.” I said meekly. I didn’t realize I could blush even more than I had been.

“At your age? Wow.” Diane looked down at her desk to think while I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. “If you got fired, what would your punishment be?”

“Hmmm…. mom would spank me with her hairbrush and ground me until I got a new job? Please don’t fire me. I’ll take what ever punishment you feel is appropriate. Dock my pay, whatever, just don’t fire me,”

I pleaded. Diane held up her index finger getting me to stop blabbering.

“Why do you allow your mom to still spank you at your age? Your legally an adult.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know. It’s just how it’s always been, and I guess it’s effective. It’s better than being grounded or being yelled at a feeling sad for days afterwards. I may be sore for a day or two, but there’s no tension afterwards. I don’t know really.”

Diane thought for a few moments before speaking again. “Do you feel a spanking is an appropriate consequence for your poor performance as a waitress?”

“Hmm…I guess so?” I answered, unsure where Diane was going with the question.

“I can’t dock your pay for the damages you’ve made already, since you already owe me a week’s salary. You can either quit or you can take a spanking from me for your poor performance.” Diane paused for a moment to see if I’d answer then continued, “You don’t have to tell me your choice now, if you choose to be spanked, come find me when your shift ends, otherwise just go home and I’ll send you any credit-card tips you have beyond your debt. But be forewarned, if I spank you, you will be giving me consent to spank you as I see needed in the future. Now get back to work.”

I took a gulp of air as I left he office. The options ran through my mind as I returned to work.  It didn’t take me long to realize my only option was to take the spanking from Diane. The problem that annoyed me the rest of my shift was what to expect in a spanking from her. I found Diane running through some inventory issues behind the bar when my shift ended.

“Diane, hmmm… can we talk?” I asked as quietly as possible.

Diane looked up at me and smiled before answering, “Come on, lets go up to my office.” Diane lead the way back through the kitchen towards her office. On the way, she nonchalantly picked up one of the wooden cutting boards we use to serve fresh bread and butter to customers. I later learned they were called butter paddles, but when she picked it up, I knew she was serious about my spanking. Diane closed and locked the door behind us, making sure we weren’t disturbed.

“So you have decided on a course of action?” Diane asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And what would it be?”

“Hmm… to… hmmm… be… hmm… spanked by you, ma’am” I stuttered.

“And you realized that if you are spanked, you maybe fired in the future for poor performance AFTER today?”

I hadn’t really though about what would happened if I didn’t improve, but being fired sometime in the future seemed a lot better than today. At least I’d have more time to improve. “Yes ma’am?”

“And if it is effective, I may spank you in the future as I see fit?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. How does your mom spank you?”

“Hmm, bending over my bed.”

“Well we don’t have a bed, so lets use my desk instead. Get into position as if your mom was spanking you,” Diane said waving the paddle at the desk.

I stepped forward so that I my hips pressed against the edge of the desk then out of habit, I reached up under my skirt and pulled down my panties to my knees then bent forward over the desk. Finally I reached back and pulled up the back of my skirt, until my bare bottom was fully exposed. Diane let a little sigh when I exposed my bottom and I realized she may not have intended on spanking my bare bottom. She’d asked what mom would expect, so I was just doing as mom would expect.

“Today I’m going to spank you with this butter paddle until I feel you are contrite and learned your lesson from your poor performance this week. After today, we will work out a point system and you will be expected to bring me a paddle when you’ve earned a set number of points. Do you understand and still want to go through with it?” Diane asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

Diane held the small paddle up to my bottom for a moment then pulled back and brought it crashing home.

Thud! “Ouch!” The first swat caught me a little by surprise. It knew it was coming, but I thought it’d sting more than just hurt, kind of like mom’s hairbrush.

Diane didn’t give me much time to contemplate the differences between the hairbrush and paddle before delivering another swat, and then another and another. The paddle seemed to cover about half my butt with each swat, so they all basically overlapped each other, causing every swat to build upon the burn of all the previous ones.

Diane picked up a steady pace and kept it up through my “Ouch” period, and my kicking and pleading period and didn’t stop until I was way into my sobbing period. Mom normally stopped shortly after I started sobbing, but Diane didn’t realize the change in my demur and just kept going. I had become some focused on the never ending pain in my bottom that Diane had to actually shake me a little bit to tell me it was over.

I eased myself up, off the desk. Diane wrapped her arms around me in a tight hugged and held me until I stopped crying. It felt good. Well being wrapped in Diane’s arms felt good; my bottom surely didn’t feel good. All the stress associated with the job seemed to wash away in those 5 minutes.

Diane let me go once I stopped crying and composed myself some. We stood there talking for quite a while about many things, most of which were related to me. Diane told me how I seemed to have huge potential but she couldn’t figure out why I was performing so poorly.

We eventually got back around to future problems and discipline. We made a list of all of the mistakes I’d made during the week, only half of which Diane had known, then allocated points to each mistake. I was then to keep track of my mistakes and bring the paddle to Diane at the end of any day when I had 6 or more points.

It was after 7:00 when we realized the time. Diane was annoyed she hadn’t gotten a bunch of the paperwork and accounting done for the day yet so I volunteered to help her do it. She tried to send me home, but I refused and insisted on helping her since it was my fault she would have to stay late. The accounting stuff was kind of fun. It was like my accounting courses, but more interesting. I even caught an error, which Diane thanked me for.

If you’d have told me that my bottom could take as many spankings as it did during that summer, I’d have told you were crazy. After the initial spanking, I swear I spent the following two weeks over the back of that chair in Diane’s office. I slowly got better at my job. I ended up becoming Diane’s assistant by the end of the summer, which aggravated many of the other waitresses, especially Cathy. A year later Diane and I opened our first restaurant with me a minority owner.