It was a quiet day, it seemed, and the shop was empty. After the festive rush, it was no surprise. People had had their fill of shopping and crowds for a while. That, or they were all still in a food coma. Bliss, Liam thought. He walked towards the back of the shop and found the till, behind which stood a very bored young woman, staring at and twiddling on her phone.
Liam came to stand in front of the now-ubiquitous plexiglass screen and made a little polite wave.
“Heya,” he said. “Happy New Year.”
“Yes? Can I help you?” the young woman said, a practiced look of indifference on her face.
“Hum, yes, it’s for a return. I bought this for a gift and it—” the man started.
“Do you have a receipt?” she interrupted him.
She rolled her eyes. “A receipt. Piece of paper with the price on it. Proof of purchase, yeah?”
“Hum, I’m not sure, I…” Liam hesitated
“Next!” she yelled, looking behind his shoulder.
“No proof, no service. Next!” she yelled again.
He turned around.
“… There’s nobody else here…”
“Right, guess I get a break, then.” She smiled and looked back at her phone
“And my return?”
“Can’t help ya.”
“Could you just take a look?” he asked, ticked.
“Did you find you receipt?”
“Can’t help you.” She cut him.
“Please? It’s unopened.” He showed her.
“Listen, I’m not trying to be a pain here. I have a customer account here, you can probably—”
“Like I said, nah,” she cut him again
He looked around again. “Can I speak to someone else?”
“What is it, Karen? You want to talk to the manager?” she grinned.
“That’s not what I said. Listen, I’m really not trying to be difficult. I’m just trying to return something and, quite frankly, you’re just being rude, you know?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. The customer is always right, isn’t he? And I, the poor little employee should so whatever you want. Is that it?”
“That is… Not what I said either? I’m fine with just an exchange. See? It’s in perfect condition.” He showed her.
“Nah, you see, I’m very busy, I don’t have time to deal with stuff like that.”
“You… don’t look very busy?” Liam said through gritted teeth, his patience wearing thin.
She waved her phone. “Uh, yeah? I’m talking to people?” she said, dismissively. She looked him up and down. “Yeah, it’s probably not a problem that you’d have…”
He frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means leave me alone, you creep.”
“Right, where’s the owner then?”
“On hols. It’s just you and me. And I’m busy.”
“You’re rude is what you are.”
“No, not whatever!”
“What, what are you gonna do, big man? Bore me to death?”
“Clearly, someone should have taught you some manners…”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Can you please leave me alone, thank you. Is that polite enough for you?”
“I would have been gone already if you’d just had a look, you know?”
“Good grief, you just can’t take a hint, can you?” she sighed. She put her phone up and looked at the screen, pouting, “Hey guys!” she said to the phone, “This is the creep that’s harassing me at work! Say hello, creep!” She turned the phone around to face him, and Liam could see himself on video.
“What the hell? Are you filming me?”
“Yeah, say hi!”
He shook his head and shrugged. “Unbelievable…” He turned around and started to walk back out. She came out of her booth and followed him, her phone still held high.
“And there you have it, you guys, that’s how you deal with rude-ass custom—”
Suddenly turning around, he grabbed the phone out of her hand and looked into the camera.
“You think I’m rude? I came here to ask politely for a return”
“Hey! Give it back!” she yelled.
He moved it away from her grasp, still talking to the camera. “This young lady is anything but polite, she thought that tapping away at her phone was more important than actually doing her job.”
“Give me my phone!” she yelled again.
“So I think I’ll give her a piece or my mind…” he continued.
“Give me my—”
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward what looked like a footstool. With the girl still protesting and trying to get away, he placed the phone on a shelf, camera still recording. He sat and pulled her over his lap in one fluid movement.
“What are you doing?!” she cried. The camera was pointing at her bottom, perched as it was over his knees. He turned to the camera once more. One of his hands was holding her tight by the waist, his other hand went up.
“And this, you guys, is what happens to rude girls…”
With a resounding ‘SLAP!’, his open palm came down on her rear, making her jump and yelp instantly.
“Stop!!” she cried, but it was much too late.
The smacks, slaps and spanks began pouring down one after another over her short dress, and it wasn’t long before she was crying and wriggling, hopelessly trying to get away from his firm grip. She hurled insults and invectives at him, from comments on his mother’s proclivities to questions about his manhood and what he could go do to himself with an impressive diversity of objects. Through it all, he said nothing, hitting her bottom, her thighs with the satisfaction of someone who’d been dreaming of it for a while.
He grabbed her dress and lifted it up to her midriff, exposing a little pair of white knickers.
“No! What are you doing you fucking pervert??” she yelled.
“What someone should have done a long time ago…” he replied with a grin and pulled the underwear down as well. Without missing another beat, the slaps resumed. Twenty more hard slaps and the pale pink had turned bright red. Thirty more, forty, and she was begging him to stop, kicking her legs, grabbing and holding to his leg. He held her firmly in place, relentless.
“So, do you have other comments to make?” he asked.
“N-no…” she said and sniffed.
“I thought so…”
His hand came down again slammed against her tender, hurt bottom. She cried out and whimpered. “Please…”
“Oh I don’t think so,” he said, the slaps falling without a pause. Left-right, left-right, evenly covering her naked, throbbing cheeks. She moaned and protested, tears rolling down her cheeks. He carried on without a word, enjoying the spectacle of her ass jiggling and bouncing under his undivided attention. Little by little, as her bottom became a darker and darker shade of red, her invectives died down and she started crying more. The insults became begging, became pleading, became apologies.
“PLEASE! I’M SORRY!” she yelled at last. He did pause at that.
“Are you going to do your job?” he asked, punctuating the question with a slap.
“Yes! Yes, please!”
“Was it so hard?” Another slap.
“No sir” Smack!
“Ow! N-no sir!”
“There we go… Get up!” he said with one final slap.
“Oww! Yes, sir…”
As she did so, he reached for the phone and, pointing it to her bruised bottom first, brought it up to her face.
“Something you want to say?” he asked, nodding towards the phone.
“I… I’m sorry… I’ll be m-more professional…” she mumbled
“How should you treat your customers?”
Liam turned to the camera one last time.
“And there you have, you guys! A lesson well learnt!” he said.