Happy International Women’s Day!

To all the women in my life, and every other besides, I hope you had a beautiful day, and that tomorrow will be just as good. Unfortunately, I know that for a lot of people, equality is a distant dream, and that low-level (or not so low, really) day-to-day misogyny is very real. From cat-calling to “jokes” and snide comments, to hearing colleagues talking about not going for a run in the dark, for every man that talks over you or dismisses your questions and concerns just because you have a hysterical set of genitals, there is still a lot to be done.

The irony of talking about it on a blog that is 99% about hitting women is not lost on me, but I hope I make it clear that, to me, spanking, as a fetish, has nothing to do with belittling women. In fact, I hope there is empowerment in choosing when and by whom to be dominated, when to let go and trust another person. I hope also that the knowledge that the game ends when (if) the spankee says so shows who’s really in control 😉

On this day like on any other, I wish that all women around the world got what they deserved one day. And yes, some of you deserve a good spanking. You know who you are!

With love, always,

-Kal

Last time, mom!

Melany had had enough. It just had to stop, and it would stop tonight. She had spent an hour or so getting ready, putting her makeup on, straightening her long, dark hair, changing her outfit three times before settling on the first one that she had tried. The usual. She hadn’t been out in ages and she was intending on having fun. What she was not intending on was her mum coming along for the ride. Again.

It had started in the summer. Her parents had gotten divorced (for the best, really), and her mum had needed a chance of place (her words). Therefore, she had decided to join her daughter Melany in California, where the young brunette was attending college. At first, Melany had been quite happy to have her mum around, as Michigan was too far for regular visits. Her mum worked from home, and she offered to move in together, even do her laundry like when she was still living at home in the Great Lake State. It was cute, and the two had always gotten along. So Melany had said yes.

Then her mum had started feeling lonely. To Melany’s horror, she had downloader Tinder, and even gone on a few dates. Thankfully, none that had gone so well that she’d brought a man to their cosy flat. But the thought made Melany shiver. Still, she was supportive. Her mum deserved to be happy, that wasn’t the issue. No, the issues had started when Sheila —her mum— had suggested they go out together.

“You want to go have diner some place?” Melany had asked.

“No, go out out,” her mum had answered.

And so they’d done just that. Once, twice, five times. Now every time Melany got herself ready, her mum ran to the bathroom and started doing the same. Not only that, her mum partied hard. After a few weeks, she was already getting a reputation, and not a particularly good one. The shots of tequila and the borderline grinding on boys at the club had forced Melany to drag her mum home the last time they’d been out.

So tonight, it would stop.

Melany admired herself one last time in the mirror —long legs clad in a short skirt, hair and eyebrows on fleek, revealing but-not-too-revealing top, she was ready for a fun night. She stepped out of her bedroom. Her mother was in the corridor, putting her heels on. She was wearing a short dress that was way too tight for Melany’s comfort. To be fair to her mother, Sheila had kept herself in shape, and was a beautiful woman still. The milf jokes in college had been relentless.

“Mom…” Melany started.

“Oh please, sweetie! I know you said last time that I embarrassed you, but I promise I will be on my best behavior tonight!”

“Mom… I love you, but maybe I could have one night out on my own, for a change?”

“Oh but sweetie, I got myself all pretty and…”

Melany sighed.

“I’m not dragging you out of the club again!” she said,

“No no, I promise! Best behavior, nothing embarrassing,” her mum replied.

Melany pouted.

“You remember what would happen when I misbehaved as a kid?” she asked, innocently.

“When bratty Melany came out?” her mother said with a smile.

“Yeah, that…”

“Well, I…” her mum stuttered

“You spanked me, right?”

“Well, hum, yes…”

“So, if you don’t behave tonight…”

“Oh, you can’t possibly mean…” Sheila said, blushing.

Melany crossed her arms.

“Either you agree to it or I’m going alone.”

It was Sheila’s turn to pout, blushing hard.

“I’m not going to embarrass you…” she started.

“Mom! Promise me,” the young girl insisted.

“I promise!”

“And if you do embarrass me?” asked Melany again.

“Then… you can s-spank me…” her mum stammered, a nervous finger on her lips.

Melany nodded, “I’ll hold you to it!” she said, then went to the door, and they both left for the club.

Not two hours later, the door opened again, and a furious Melany was dragging her mother in by the wrist.

“But sweeeetie!” the older woman was saying, “It was just a couple shots and…”

“You were GRABBING his BUTT in middle of the dancefloor, MOM!” Melany yelled.

“Well, it was quite firm, really…”

“Mom, you’re drunk!”

“Oh, maybe, but it’s so fun!”

“That guy is in my class, mom!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me they had nice asses in your class, you know!”

“MOM!”

“Whaaat?” Sheila asked, smiling.

“You remember what we said, right?”

“About what?”

“About you embarrassing me again!”

“Oh that… You didn’t really mean it, sweetie, did you?”

“Oh, didn’t I?” Melany said with a glare.

“You wouldn’t spank your own mother…” Sheila said, shaking her head with a grin. “Now if that boy was to put me over his knees…”

“MOM!” Melany yelled again, and still holding her mum’s wrist, she pulled a chair. Sitting down, she forced the older woman over her lap. Drunk as she was, it took Sheila until the first slap landed on her firm behind to realise what was going on.

“Oww!” she cried out, “Melany? What are you doing?”

“What I should have done a while ago,” her daughter said, landing five slaps in quick succession on her mother’s rear. The woman wriggled her bottom, trying to escape or avoid the heavy slaps somehow, but Melany was holding her firmly in place, and slap after hard slap landed with only the thin fabric of the dress and panties to shield her bottom.

After twenty more, Sheila was feeling the warmth growing in her behind. “All right, okay!” she cried out, “You’ve made your point! I’ll be good.”

“Really, mom?” Melany frowned. “I think I remember my spankings being a lot more bare.”

“Y-yes but…”

“Oh no ifs or buts, mom,” said her daughter with a vicious grin. How she had dreamed of this as a teenager when her mum pulled her over her lap. This was payback, she thought, for spanking her in front of her friends that one time. The dress came up, and her hand fell down hard again, and again, and again. By then, her mother was clearly sobering up, and feeling the pain and humiliation much more clearly. The amused comments became little cried, became pleas, became tears.

“All right! I’m sorry! Melany, please…”

The pink cheeks were turning red, much to Melany’s delight, but she wasn’t done yet. The panties were still covering most of her mother’s round, toned bottom, and there was no way they would stay up. “If you’re really sorry, you’ll agree that your panties must come down as well, right?” she asked.

Her mother gasped. “No, please…” she said, “this is so humiliating already…”

“Oh is it?” Melany said with a frown, “And you think my mom groping boys in the club in front of me isn’t?”

“Melany, sweetie…”

“Men your own age from now on, Mom!”

“Yes, sweetie…”

“And don’t even think about bringing one in here!”

“Y-yes, sweetie” her mother sobbed.

“Am I taking your panties down?”

“I…”

“Do you deserve a good, bare bottom spanking?”

Sheila didn’t answer but didn’t protest further when her daughter grabbed her panties’ waist band and lowered them to mid-thigh. From then on, there was nothing but raw pain and the sound of hard slaps filling the room, punctuated by Sheila’s sobs and sniffles. She knew her daughter and how she always achieved what she set her mind to. This spanking was going to end when Melany decided it would, and not a second before. Sheila’s bottom and thighs were burning, probably bright red by now, and she wondered if she would be able to sit at all come the morning. At the very least, she would be sleeping on her side tonight, she knew.

Still, she thought, that boy in the club had had one hell of a cute ass.

Asking for it

I’m not saying that she was asking for it, but as I closed the door to our tiny apartment, she was lying over the back of the sofa, her tight skirt-clad bottom gently swaying up in the air, enticing me, beckoning me over. Next to her, precariously balanced on the back of the sofa was a hairbrush, a silicon spatula and a belt, waiting for me. From the tightness of her skirt, I could see that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She didn’t say a word and shook her bottom a little more, as if a taunt.

Not one to go against her wishes, I uncuffed my shirt and rolled up its sleeves. I appreciate comfort, you see, and I didn’t want to give her a subpar performance. After all, she had gone through all that trouble to… lie around waiting for me, I guess. There probably were a hundred reasons for her to deserve a spanking, and, truthfully, I didn’t really need to know which one had brought that about right then and there.

Instead, I put the tip of my fingers in the small of her back, and felt her shiver. A small moan escaped from her lips, and I noticed that she was wearing a blindfold. One hand still on her back, the other slid across the skirt and cupped her round cheeks. She shook her bottom a little more, pushing it into my hand. I went down to her thighs and caressed them, seemingly at random, losing my hand between them. Her breathing was getting harder already, and she spread her legs a little.

Bending down, I laid a soft kiss on her right cheek, then immediately followed with a hard slap that pushed her hard against the back of our sofa. She cried out, but said nothing more. I spanked her left cheek just as hard, and she pressed herself against the sofa again. She raised her bottom up, tiptoeing in her heels, wordlessly begging for more. Being a gentleman, I obliged.

Slap after slap, she cried and moaned and heaved. At some point, her skirt had come up, revealing that I had indeed been right and that no underwear was to be found underneath it. Her pearly white cheeks had gone to pink, to red, to bright, deep crimson. I could see that her blindfold was getting wet, and that she was biting her lips not to cry harder. Between her thighs, the pearling wetness was an invitation and I couldn’t help but slide my fingers over it, caressing, probing, and teasing her. She pressed her legs shut and pushed her bottom out. Clearly, it wasn’t time for that yet. I grabbed the hairbrush.

Later, finally satisfied, she ripped the blindfold off, panting. On trembling legs, she got up. Without looking at me, she started walking towards our bedroom. Then, looking back over her shoulders and with her tongue licking her lips, she asked:

“Well? Is that all you’ve got?”

Happy Valentine’s

If I take you over my knee
And punish you mercilessly
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I spank you with hand and brush
And make both pairs of your cheeks blush
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I cane your trembling bottom
The colour of leaves in autumn
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I promise I’ll make you cry
While telling you exactly why
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I promise to hold you tight
And hold you close throughout the night
Will you be mine, will you opine?
Love, will you be my Valentine?

Silly Mistakes

“Quiet down, please!” the teacher said to the class. The boys stopped chatting as they saw the pile of papers that she was holding.

“Are these our tests, Miss?” a boy named Ryan asked.

“They are. Now, please take a purple pen and go through the annotations as I hand them.”

There was a rustle as the boys dutifully looked into their pencil-cases for the necessary pen. As post-16 students in one of the top grammar schools in the country, all of them were used to weekly tests, and needed little reminder of what to do. Discipline and behaviour had never been an issue.

“Got it!” Ryan said, holding his pen up. “First?” he looked around. “Boys, always competitive…” Miss Moore thought.

With a tut, she put the paper down on the boy’s desk. He gasped.

“What is this?” he asked.

“That’s your test, Ryan,” she said.

“I can see that, but it seems you’ve given me a… C minus?”

“Indeed, Ryan, that’s quite disappointing… Did you revise before this one?”

“Of course I revised,” he said with a frown. “Not that I needed to, this was ridiculously easy. There must be a mistake.”

There was a snicker behind him. “Is that a C, Ryan?” another boy asked.

“No way!” Ryan said, “Miss has made a mistake.”

She huffed. “There is no mistake! I do not make mistakes. Maybe you need to reconsider the amount of effort you should put into your work, young man.”

Ryan frowned and turned the page, quickly scanning through the answers. Miss Moore gave the next boy his test.

“Miss!” Ryan called.

“Not now, Ryan,” she replied tersely, and kept handing out the tests.

“Hey, Ryan!” the boy behind him called, “Look, an A!”

“A plus!” another called out.

“Quiet, boys…” the teacher warned.

“But Miss!” Ryan called again.

“That’s enough, young man!” she snapped. “I can see that you are disappointed with your grade, but it is merely a result of your own complacency. No one else in the class is complaining. In fact, no one else did quite as bad! Maybe next time you will check your work before handing it in, and make sure that you didn’t make silly mistakes that end up costing you dearly, yes? Now I don’t want to hear one more word about it, understood, Ryan?”

Ryan frowned.

“Ryan?” she asked again.

“Yes, Miss… But…”

“Not another word! I’d rather not have to discipline you. Though if I’m honest with you, a result like that should be reason enough for a good spanking!”

There was a OoooooOooooh from the other boys. It had been a long time since any corporal punishment had been needed, and Miss Moore was well fit. More than one boy had dreamed of being pulled over her lap… or the opposite.

She looked at the rest of the class and lifted a finger in warning. “That’s quite enough, boys. You only have twenty minutes to do your corrections, then the lesson’s over. And as for you, Ryan, I would use my time wisely if I were you and try to understand what went wrong so it doesn’t happen again.”

For the next ten minutes, only the rustling of papers and pens could be heard. As the minutes ticked by, Ryan’s frown only deepened, until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and rose his hand.

“Miss?” he asked.

Sat at her desk, she slapped it with the tip of her fingers and rolled her eyes. “I thought I made myself clear, young man?”

“Yes, but can I show you something, Miss, please?”

“Yes, yes, if there’s something you don’t understand, I can help you, of course.”

“Poor little Ryan can’t even correct the mistakes himself…” said a voice behind him.

More snickers behind his back, and Ryan felt his cheeks blush in shame and anger.

“Shut up!” he said, turning around.

“Ryan!” Miss Moore said.

“But Miss!”

“I’ve had quite enough of your attitude, young man!” she hissed. “I think you and I are going to have a talk at lunch.”

More ooohs and aaahs.

“But you got it wrong!” he said, “Look!”

He held his test up.

“You’ve marked each question as if it were the next,” he continued. “See? The first one here? It’s correct, right? And this one, look? It goes A, C, D, but you circled A, C, D on the next one. And then the next, and then the next!”

Miss Moore snatched the paper off his hand and started leafing through it, blushing. “I-I…” she stammered.

“Well?” Ryan asked.

“I think…” she started.

“Did he get it right?” one of the boys asked.

“Legend!” another yelled from the back.

“It’s all correct, isn’t it, Miss?” Ryan asked with a smile.

“Y-yes… It appears so…”

“So what you’re saying is…” Ryan continued, grabbing his chair and dragging it in front of the desks. “What you’re saying is that you made a silly mistake?”

“I… Hum, well…” she stuttered again.

“Are you telling me you didn’t check your work before handing it in?” he grinned, “I think you’re the one who needs a lesson, Miss…”

The other boys in the room were gleefully looking at her, arms crossed, a smile on their face. One of them, Ian, went to the door and casually leaned against it. A few already had their phones out.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Ryan, but…”

“What I’m saying, Miss, is that we expect a high standard of work from you, just as you do from us. That’s only fair, right?”

“Yes. I-I suppose?”

“And you said it yourself, such silly mistakes are reason enough for a good spanking.”

“I… Did I say that? I… Hum…”

“You said it, Miss…” said another student with a wry smile.

“Yup, you did,” chirped another.

“What’s my grade?” Ryan asked.

“A… A plus…” Miss Moore said, hesitantly.

“What was it out of? The marks?”

“One… One hundred and ten…”

Ryan looked around with a grin. “What do you think, guys? One hundred and ten, sounds fair?”

All of them nodded, some of them mouthing “Yeah!”

“I… I don’t think that’s appropriate…” Miss Moore tried, but Ryan was already pulling her over his lap.

Quickly, he landed a series of slaps over her dress. It was clingy enough that he could see the patter of her lacy panties underneath. As she wriggled and protested, he held her firmly in place and only spanked her harder, encouraged by his classmates, several of which were pointing their phones at them.

“Maybe next time you won’t be so quick to dismiss questions, Miss?” he said with a grin, and kept landing hard, open-palmed smacks on her curvy ass.

“Oww!” she yelped in pain, “Please! You’ve made your point!”

“Lift her dress!” one of the boys called. Many others approved. Not one to disappoint his audience, Ryan quickly pulled it up, revealing a white pair of lace knickers under which creamy-white buttocks were turning pink. After a second of admiring the view, he went back to work, much to the delight of the other boys. As more slaps poured down, Miss Moore was blushing from both ends, and tears had begun rolling down her cheeks. She was begging and crying out with every other slap, knowing that a classful of boys were staring at her rear, and that a frilly pair of lacy lingerie was all that protected her dignity —the little of it she had left, anyway.

“Have you been counting, Miss?” Ryan asked as his hand hit her wobbling bottom once more.

“Oww! C-counting?”

“The one hundered and ten slaps?”

“W-what?”

Ryan tutted and shook his head, “Were you not paying attention, Miss? I thought the task was quite clear… Such a silly mistake… Should we start again at one, then?”

“N-no! Please! Ryan!”

He nodded to another boy. “Joe. How many?”

“Sixty four,” the other boy said.

“See? We do pay attention, don’t we miss?”

“Y-yes, I-I’m sorry!”

“You said it yourself, you should make sure that you don’t make silly mistakes that end up costing you dearly…”

“Yes… I’m sorry… I…”

“Only forty three to go!” Joe said with a grin.

“No, please!” she moaned.

“Oh yes…” Ryan said with a grin, “But first…”

Pinning her arm behind her back. he grabbed her panties and slowly, almost delicately pulled them down to her thighs, revealing bright red, clenched cheeks. She kicked her legs in protest, but there was nothing the could do. There was palpable excitement in the room, and none of the boys said anything, as if stunned by the view. Big, ugly tears were running down Miss Moore’s cheeks and she screw her eyes shut.

A sudden massive slap made her open them wide again, and she cried out in pain and surprise.

“How many more?” Ryan asked.

“Forty two!” she moaned.

“Well done!” he said and slapped her ass again. And again, and again.

“T-ten!” she sniffled a few minutes later.

“N-nine…”

“Owwwww! Eiiight!”

“Se-e-ven!”

“Six! Six! Oww!”

“Fiiive!”

“F-four, please…”

“Three…”

“Two-Ooow!”

“One! One!”

He held his hand high. “Anything you want to tell us, Miss?”

“I… I…”

“Will you make any more silly mistakes?”

“No! No! I will check my work! I won’t make silly mistakes again! Please”

Just as the final slap landed, the bell went off.

Ryan let his teacher go and got up.

“There you go lads, class dismissed!” he said. Behind him, one hand on her desk, Miss Moore was rubbing her red, painful, punished bottom.

In the hallway

Polly closed the door and stepped into their apartment. She could feel herself blush already. That phone call one the way home had not been pleasant, and she knew very well what was waiting for her. Polly was a bubbly 25-year-old, as upbeat as they came, and she always found a silver lining to every situation. This time, however, there wasn’t any that she could discern.

Nervously, she tucked one side of her hair behind her ear, took her jacket off and hung it in the hallway. James, her boyfriend, was waiting in the living room. She knew he was because he had told her that’s where he would wait for her. He had also told her about what would happen next. In truth, she had hoped she would get away with that one. Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on the credit card bill coming in the mail. Isn’t it all online these days? she told herself. She bit her lip. She was stalling, standing there in the hallway like an idiot. She felt a knot in her stomach; she hadn’t been spanked in so long…

Yet, there was desire there too. The spanking would hurt. The shame… Would too, in a different way. But she had been feeling bad about that stupid bill for days, and she craved the catharsis. She craved his hands over her, and around her once he was done. She wanted him to tell her it would all be okay, and that he was going to take care of it. Take care of her.

Oh yes, it would burn. She would cry, and beg, and plead. She would curse her own stupidity, and he would scold her like a child… She shivered. Anticipation? She pressed her thighs together. She was still in the hallway. She knew he had heard her come in —their front door needed a good push to close, it was never a discreet entry. She pulled down on her dress. It felt very short, all of a sudden.

Would he take her panties off? Of course he would. When she was spanked, it was a proper punishment, and a proper punishment was on the bare bottom. She knew that. She hated that. Or did she love it? That moment when the fabric slid down her thighs… It signalled the last stage of the spanking, so to speak, things getting serious. Anything before that was only foreplay.

Foreplay… Was it what it was to her? No, it was a punishment. Pain. Humiliation. Her bottom throbbing in agony, fire radiating from her rear. And fire right between her legs too… She would push her bottom slightly up, parting her leg knowing his eyes would be all over her intimacy. Maybe she would moan. In pain, absolutely, but something else too. She was blushing hard already. Her breathing was heavier.

Would he spank her long? Yes… He had told her already. He wasn’t even mad about the bill. He was mad that she hadn’t told him about it. Especially when it was past due. Maybe, somehow, she had wanted this to happen? She wanted him to take charge… She wanted to lose herself in the comfort of him calling the shots. She also knew the effect her punished bottom had on him. The slaps themselves wouldn’t be the only thing to be hard.

But… He would make her wait. She knew it. He had told her. She would be spanked, she would be punished, then sent to the corner while he dealt with the money. She would have to wait, exposed and deliciously horny for him to come and finally forgive her. Would he take her against the wall? Would he take her in his arm and carry her to the bedroom first? Maybe he had some other thing in mind… He had been waiting for her a while, and he was nothing if not imaginative. She shivered again.

Then she remembered that she was still in the hallway, and that she was still making him wait. Before any of that pleasure, before the forgiveness, there was a spanking waiting for her. A hard, painful, and shameful one. She breathed hard.

And stepped into the room.

Customer service

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.

“Pardon me?”

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.

“What?”

“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?”

“No but…”

“Can’t help you.” She cut him.

“Please? It’s unopened.” He showed her.

“Nah.”

“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.”

“Whatever.”

“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.

“N-no…”

“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?”

“R-respectfully?”

“And?”

“K-kindly?”

“And?”

“P-p-politely?”

Liam turned to the camera one last time.

“And there you have, you guys! A lesson well learnt!” he said.