Abby’s Books    ©  Abby Gold 2017   

Ode to Sex - Extract - Restaurant Rumpus

In which a naughty waitress gets her bottom spanked and enjoys it His name was Saunders, and he was The Boss.    Her name was Julie, and she was his newest recruit.    She turned up on her first day in a skirt that was a little too short and heels that were a  little too high, and he felt sure that she was the one - the one that was a bit different, the  one that he had been waiting for.    And he was right - but she, poor thing, didn't know it yet!  Saunders was forty-something,  looking fit, and feeling very much in his prime.  If he'd still been with the company he'd  dedicated twenty years of his life to, he'd have been a Director by now, and the fact that a  redundancy had thrust him into a completely different line of work hadn't stopped him  thinking of himself as senior management.  He had authority, he had style, he had brains.   People respected him and deferred to him.  All this made it the easiest thing in the world for  Saunders to run a restaurant.    It was called Tip Top Table, and it was very big, very classy, and very profitable.  It was  frequented by the rich and famous, gushed about endlessly in newspaper columns, and   fiercely resented by its rivals, which, try as they might, couldn't quite seem to outmatch its  reputation for outstanding food and excellent service.    The secret to the place's success lay in Saunders' attitude to his staff - he ran a very tight  ship.  To the Master Chef and the largely male staff in the kitchens he was firm but decent,  but with his team of fifteen young waitresses he was - well, to say the least, excessively  strict.  They complained about him behind his back, of course, called him intolerant,  inflexible, demanding, but to his face every one of them was polite and obedient - partly  because they were scared of him, partly because he paid them twice as much as they  could've got anywhere else.     Saunders had his own way of recruiting waitresses.  He didn't believe in CVs and  interviews - he wanted to see a girl at work.  Before starting his new venture, he'd spent  weeks eating in restaurants and cafes all around the city, keeping his eye out for staff who  were particularly hardworking and customer-friendly.  Always assuming they were also  female, under twenty-five, pretty, and preferably not wearing a wedding ring, he would  immediately take them aside and offer them a job.  Few refused.    In this way, Saunders had contrived to surround himself with a bevy of personally-selected  young women, all of whom had reason to be grateful to him, and to all of whom he had  legitimate reason to issue strict, detailed and frequent instructions, thus allowing him to  indulge his dominant streak.  But that was not all.  It was also his prerogative, as successful  restaurant owner and manager, to insist that his flock of servers wore a uniform - and  uniforms, it had to be said, were one of his great passions.    "Little black skirt - straight, but with a slit at the back," he would instruct his eager-to-  please maidens.  "Black tights -" he'd decided it would be going too far to insist on  stockings, "- and shiny black shoes.  Spotless white blouse with long sleeves, set off by a  pretty pink waistcoat, and a pink headband with the restaurant's name written across it."    At least that was this month's uniform.  He intended to indulge some of his creativity and  change it frequently.  Maybe bright red next time - colour coordinated with the tablecloths.  And with the neckline gradually dropping towards nipple-level!    But to what extent did The Boss indulge his more carnal fantasies and make the most of  those nubile young ladies' charms?  Well, every one of them had been stripped naked and  ravaged in his mind's eye, but in reality he had yet to bed a single one.    He was working on it, but didn't want to do anything too indiscreet - after all, the girls were  contributing to his livelihood.  It was getting to be difficult, though.  The urge to grope, and  possibly spank, one of those tight, swinging, ever-present bottoms was beginning to be  rather hard to resist.     So the arrival of Julie was rather timely.    He'd found her in a tiny cafe in a grotty part of town, and had noticed the deferential but  slightly cheeky way she had with male customers in particular.  She was only twenty, with a  fresh, youthful face and a cute little turned up nose, but something about the look in her  pretty blue eyes spoke of a maturity beyond her years.  He hadn't been able to keep his  eyes off her rather large breasts and particularly rounded swelling bottom, and when he  saw the way she playfully tossed back her short blonde hair when she laughed, he knew he  had to have her on his team - and under his thumb.    Luckily, she was more than happy to accept a well paid job in the city centre, and  Saunders was gratified by the flush that rose to her face when he complimented her on her  competent service and friendly attitude.    "Only I'm warning you," he'd told her sternly.  "You'll be working very hard and I'll be very  strict - my customers expect the very highest of standards."    "Of course - I'll do my very best, sir," she'd replied, and from the moment he'd heard that  first automatic, unbidden, deferential 'sir', he'd begun to hope.    Now Saunders was absolutely clear that he would never, ever abuse his power as  authoritative employer, but the situation he had engineered for himself was now driving him  to distraction.  All night he dreamt of ranks of curving bottoms in short black skirts marching  along in front of him, always just out of his reach, and his fantasies now focused on one  thing only - spanking.    It had been a lifelong obsession, though always kept very secret and based more on  theory than on practice, and basically, he decided he hadn't done enough of it.  He wanted  desperately to yank up one - at least one - of those tight black skirts and lay into a pair of  fleshy, bouncy buttocks with all his might, and he had issued himself an ultimatum.  He  would get to spank one of his delightful waitresses by the end of the month, or else sack  the lot of them and switch to male waiters.  The temptation and frustration were getting too  much - he'd end up having a heart attack!    But all this turmoil and anguish on the part of her boss was unknown to Julie.  She was  proud of her new job - she loved the posh atmosphere of the restaurant and seemed to be  a hit with the customers - and was determined to do her very best.  Unfortunately, however,  things were not going quite as smoothly as she'd hoped.  She'd only been there a couple of  weeks when she started to get into trouble.    You see Julie was a fiery lass, with a strong streak of pride and an intolerance of injustice,  and despite herself, she soon became the restaurant's first ever rebel.  It started with the  issue of the spare plates, which were stored in little service cupboards throughout the  restaurant.  According to Mr Snooty Saunders, as Julie came to think of him, the plates had  to be stacked in piles of twenty.  If, on one of his spot checks, he found only nineteen, or  even worse, twenty-one in a pile, he would go spare, and give everyone a long lecture on  the decline of standards in catering.    "But this is ridiculous!" Julie objected to her fellows.  "It doesn't matter exactly how many  plates there are in a pile.  And we're far too busy to waste time counting them all the time!"  But no-one seemed prepared to take her side.  It was more than their jobs were worth.    Then there was the butter.  It was cut into pretty little flower-shaped pieces every evening  by a special machine that one of the waitresses operated manually.  Julie had been shown  how wide the slices had to be, but didn't think it mattered all that much if some of them  turned out a few millimetres wider or narrower.  She was wrong.    The Boss came up behind her, making her jump.    "What's this?" he queried coldly, brandishing a butter dish.  His overwhelming air of  authority cowed her, and she responded humbly, though she was seething inside.    "It's a butter flower that's too thick.  I'm very sorry, sir, it won't happen again."    He gave her a long look.  "I've been watching you very carefully, my girl, and I hope you  understand that I won't tolerate cheekiness or disobedience in my staff.  Or sloppiness.   Now, take this piece of butter and trim it down to size!"    The days passed and Julie increasingly found that Saunders' many unreasonable  demands and idiosyncrasies infuriated her, as did the fact that no-one would join her in  standing up to him. Manager and waitress clashed several times, and on each occasion  she became more defiant and more bold, struggling to make her point under his crushing  stare - her little nose thrust proudly into the air and her pretty eyes blinking back indignant  tears.     Eventually the showdown came.  It had been a hot, busy night, and Julie had committed  the cardinal sin of taking her pink waistcoat off during her shift.  The others had warned her  not to, but she'd had just about enough of stupid rules and was feeling reckless.  As an  additional gesture of defiance, she had torn her black tights off and thrown them away -  they were ludicrously uncomfortable in the heat!    The Boss had noticed.  She'd seen him looking critically at her bare legs, his face stern  and disapproving.  As everyone else was leaving, he summoned her to his upstairs office,  and the expressions of her colleagues told her this was bad news.    Oh well, thought Julie, as she mounted the stairs.  I guess I've blown it.  She tried to be  philosophical, but the thought of losing out on good money depressed her.    Meanwhile Saunders was in a state of extreme agitation.  For weeks his fantasies had  been completely focused on Julie.  Her breasts were so stupendous!  The way they  bounced when she hurried around.  And her arse - her arse was a dream!  Not skin and  bone like so many of them, but broad and full and luscious, and oh so desirable!    And her rebellious spirit had turned him on so much!  He sometimes wondered what he  had to do to get any of these beautiful young ladies to respond to him.  Couldn't they see  that his harshness was largely tongue-in-cheek?  But they were all too meek, and  meekness he found boring.  Only Julie had shown any sign of standing up to him, and he'd  found it invigorating.  He'd been playing a game with her, and now it was time to find out if  she'd recognised the fact.  But he had to tread carefully.    She stood in front of him, resignedly, her waistcoat dutifully on, and her lower lip trembling  a little in anticipation of a telling off.  It came soon enough.    "It seems you're having a little difficulty adjusting to the rules of this establishment."  He  kept his tone flat and watched her face carefully for reaction.  "I thought I'd made it quite  clear that your uniform was to be worn at all times - including waistcoat and tights."    "Yes, but it was so - "    "Without exception!"    "But it was only because of the - "    "Young lady!"  He stood up from his chair and thumped his hands on the desk-top for  effect.  "It's quite simple.  If you want to continue working here, you do strictly as you're told  from now on!  Now, do you want to continue working here?"    He could see the struggle going on inside her - it was evident in her flashing eyes, and in  the heaving of her breasts as she breathed in deeply.  Relatively quickly, though, the  decision was made.    "Yes."      It was Saunders' turn to sigh deeply, as he made a show of carefully considering his  position.    "Very well, you may stay - I'll give you another chance.  However, there remains the  question of punishment."    He watched her eyes widen slightly in surprise.  They flew open wider still at his next  comment.   "You may choose between losing a week's salary and - " he almost hesitated, but decided  to take the risk now he'd come this far " - and bending over my knee for a good spanking!"    There was a stunned silence.  Julie could hardly believe her ears.  Had he said spanking?   The pervert!  The creep!  How dare he make her life miserable with unreasonable  demands, then threaten to fire her and finally add insult to injury by suggesting she put  herself over his lap!  It was preposterous, humiliating!  She would report him to, to - to  someone.    "You see," the beast was saying, "I'm afraid I'm rather old-fashioned, in some ways.  I  believe that a little straightforward chastisement is the best route to better behaviour.  A few  moments of stinging pain, and you'll think twice about taking bits of your uniform off again!   Simple, but effective, I find."     Still Julie said nothing, but there was another reason for her confusion.  She was reeling  from the coincidence of finding herself in this situation when just the other week, for the first  time in her life, she had read a story in one of her friend's magazines about a girl getting  her bottom spanked by her boyfriend, because she hadn't turned up on time for a date.   The story had had a strange effect on her - given her a funny feeling inside.  In a way it had  sounded - well, yes, exciting!  And here she was being asked to take a spanking herself!   But she couldn't, not in the real world - could she?    "It's entirely up to you, my dear.  I'm quite busy and tired tonight, so I'm not desperate to  spend my time punishing disobedient members of staff."  He had to struggle to get that lie  out!  "Will it be the salary cut, then?  Let me see, where's my calculator?  That will come  to.."    "No!"  Julie was shaking with nerves, but her mind was suddenly made up.  "I reckon I can  take it, and I need the money.  Only don't you try anything else with me!  I'm not that kind of  girl!"   "I don't know what you mean."  Saunders pulled his chair away from the desk and sat  down, patting his lap.  "Now come along.  Let's get this silly business over with."    Filled with trepidation, yet curiously excited, Julie advanced towards the man she had  spent weeks thinking she loathed, and very gingerly leaned forward over his dark trousers.   Coming into physical contact with his body for the first time was a bit of a shock, but not too  unpleasant.  He looked reasonable for his age, and was dressed in an elegant suit.  She  was not totally naive, and was extremely aware of the proximity of his groin, but distanced  herself from even the thought of it and concentrated on being brave and, as the man had  said, getting things over with quickly.    "That's a good girl," Saunders said reassuringly, and laid an arm firmly across her waist,  effectively pinning her in place.  His heart was racing with anticipation.  At last, at last, it  was actually going to happen!    Julie gripped onto the edge of the chair and screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the first  blow, but suddenly she felt something rather different to what she'd been expecting, and  squealed.     "What are you doing?  Here, you said there'd be none of that!"    Saunders tutted.  "What I'm doing is lifting your skirt up.  You agreed to a spanking, and  that means I've got to get at your delicate flesh.  It would hardly be a punishment if you  were allowed your skirt as protection."    But Julie kept on struggling.  "Not on my naked bum, sir!  You can't be serious.  I've only  got - "    "What?"    "Well, I've only got tiny panties on, sir."    Saunders felt a warm glow in a certain place, and reminded himself to keep things under  control.  This was obviously the lady's first time, after all.    "I see.  Shall I get the calculator again?  Go back to the other plan?"    "Oh, no, sir."    "So it's on your naughty botty then, is it?"    "Well, alright then."     "With the tiny panties."    "Yes, but don't pull them down!"    "I won't," Saunders promised.  Not this time.    Julie was in a bit of a daze by now.  Real life seemed to have gone away.  Certainly she  couldn't believe she was in the upstairs room at the restaurant where she worked, and that  her boss was pushing her down onto his lap and working her short skirt up so that the  tender, private flesh beneath was utterly exposed to his gaze.  Neither did it seem real  when she felt his hand against her buttocks, not harsh as she'd expected, but rather nice  and soft and warm, rubbing her and patting her and squeezing her until a not unfamiliar  twinge in her nether regions added to her overall sense of disorientation.    But then the blows started, and everything was driven from her mind except the pain.    "Ouch!" she yelled.  "It hurts!"    "Of course it hurts.  That's the idea."    "But it hurts more than I thought.  Ouch!  Ouch!"    "Good!  Maybe it will remind you to keep your uniform in order in future."    "Oh, I will.  I'm sorry, sir."    "I'm glad you're repentant."    "Oh!  Ouch!  Isn't that enough, sir, Mr Saunders?"    "Enough?  I've only just started.  And keep still!"     "How many am I going to - ouch! - how many am I going to get?"    "Ah well, we neglected to discuss that."    "Ow!  Oh, sir, you're spanking me so hard!"    "Not really.  Now THIS is hard."    "Yeaouch!"    "Do you want to work here?"    "Yes, of course, sir."    "Are you going to behave yourself?"    "Yes, I promise."    "Then lie there quietly and count the strokes in your head.  I'm going to give you twenty."    "Twenty?"    "Twenty hard ones."    "Oh, no, please!"    "Quiet, I said.  Now.  One!"    He was good, and he was enjoying himself.  The blows fell squarely and evenly, first on   one buttock, then the other - first on top of those little panties, which were indeed smaller  than Saunders had even dared to hope, and of the softest, prettiest pure white cotton, then  just above them, so that the whole buttock area was nicely covered and left red and  stinging from the onslaught.    Julie, to give her credit, now shut up and took her punishment bravely, just the occasional  sharply indrawn breath indicating how much she was suffering.  She did count the blows in  her head as she'd been told, and by the time she'd reached ten was admitting to herself  that the experience wasn't really all that bad.  Painful, yes, but also liberating, to be  exposing your bottom and having it dealt with like this, and all behind your back, where you  couldn't see exactly what was going on.    At the fifteenth stroke, she realised her knickers were dripping wet with secretions from  her pussy, and by the twentieth, something even more remarkable had happened.  Julie  had grown up.    As she lay exhausted over her boss' lap, with her bottom burning all over like it had never  burned before, and in no particularly hurry to get up, she understood it all.  Understood the  game he'd been playing with her, understood that the rules and the concept of punishment  for breaking them were a charade, and that what was really going on was a form of sex,  even if nothing actually 'happened' in the conventional sense.    Filled with this knowledge, she wiggled her bottom beneath the hand that was now  stroking it again, and found herself longing for those panties that she had been so eager to  keep on to be pulled down to her ankles, where she suddenly felt they belonged.     But Saunders was in the thick of the game, and decided to play it his own way.  If he  pursued things now, he might find it turned out to be a one-off experience, for almost  certainly the girl would regret what she'd done in the morning and never turn up for work  again.  So it was a case for patience - difficult though that might be.    "Right, that's that," he announced matter-of-factly, and virtually pushed the half-naked  Julie off his lap.  "As I said, I'm busy, so get up and get out.  I haven't got any more time to  waste on recalcitrant women.  I trust you've learned your lesson, and that you won't be  breaking any more of our rules in future."     Disappointed, embarrassed and more confused than ever, Julie struggled to her feet,  pulled her skirt down over her burning bottom, and virtually staggered towards the door.   She must have made a mistake.  What she'd thought had become an intensely liberating  and potentially erotic experience had suddenly plunged again into a mundane and  humiliating telling-off in her employer's office.    Without another word she crept out of the door and made her way home, where she spent  a sleepless night, tossing and turning and trying desperately to make her mind up about  one thing.  Had Mr Saunders really winked at her as she slunk from his office, or had that  been a figment of her suddenly over-excited imagination?    What happened over the next few days Julie was at a loss to explain.  Though every time  she saw Saunders in the restaurant her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought  of what had gone on between them, she somehow found herself, instead of doing her best  to be obedient, becoming more rebellious than ever.    She complained loudly about everything to the kitchen staff, deliberately cut super-thick  butter wedges, and even went as far as colluding with the customers about what an ogre  her manager was.    It was inevitable that she was soon summoned once again to the upstairs office, and  though she was slightly scared, the quivering in her pussy ensured she couldn't pretend to  herself that it wasn't what she wanted.    It was quite amazing how that one harsh spanking appeared to have swept away so many  of her inhibitions!    This time there were no preliminaries.    "Turn round," Saunders said immediately from where he sat behind his desk.  "Bend right  over.  And pull up your skirt."     He gasped when he saw her panties.  On this occasion, they were a deep, sluttish red,  and made of fine silk, decorated with red lace.  She was also wearing black stockings and  suspenders, and the sight of them pleased him immensely.  It was obvious she had made  an effort for his benefit, and he no longer had any doubt that she was on course to being  his dream come true.    As he advanced towards her, he took it upon himself to pull those sexy pants down to her  thighs, and though she gasped when he did so, she uttered no word of complaint and even  seemed to be thrusting her buttocks a little more eagerly towards him.     "Don't tell me," he crooned, "that little miss troublemaker has been deliberately naughty,  just so that she could come and show me her botty again?"    "No!" Julie felt forced to protest, but his words triggered a jolt of excitement deep in her  stomach.   "So you'll agree that you thoroughly deserve a sound thrashing for misbehaving so  outrageously?"    Just perceptibly, she nodded.    "Pardon?"    "Yes, I deserve a thrashing, sir."    This time they understood each other, Saunders was certain.  The way that bottom was  grinding!  The way it had shown itself to him so enthusiastically!  He felt sure that if he  decided to take her right now, she wouldn't object, and he was right - Julie was now utterly  lost in the experience, and didn't know what she wanted more, to be spanked soundly, or to  be fucked.    But The Boss wasn't ready to pander to her new-found sexual desires.  There was a lot of  teasing and humiliation and build up to be enjoyed first.  He'd waited a long time for this  sort of opportunity, and now he was going to make her wait - and suffer.    After walking round her for a while, he retired to a corner of the office to get something,  aware that Julie's eyes were following him from her bent forward position.    When he turned round he had a rod in his hand - but not the one she'd expected!  It was  three feet long, half an inch thick and made of bamboo.    Julie cried out at the sight of it, but stayed in position.    "Spanking doesn't seem to have had the desired effect, so I'm going to have to try  something different."  He rubbed the cane against her trembling buttocks, and delighted in  her involuntary groan.  "Right.  How many plates in a pile?"    Now pain is a funny thing.  It's undoubtedly unpleasant - when a thick cane falls, even  fairly gently, on tender, naked, inexperienced flesh, it hurts dreadfully.  The sting is  unbelievable - the whole body and mind objects to it, jerks away involuntarily, and voices its  shock.  So what strange motivation would make anyone, having just experienced such  unpleasantness, calmly present their tender posterior for more of the same?    This mystery was now being contemplated by our young Julie, who - knickers down,  bottom up, and head in the clouds - found herself repeatedly, almost automatically, bending  over into position for yet another stroke, even when the previous one had been  excruciating, and had virtually driven her onto the floor in agony.    Saunders was in fact being quite gentle, but then Julie was a beginner, and nothing had  prepared her for the harsh sting of the rod.  She felt sure - well, pretty sure - that she  could've called a halt to proceedings at any time.  Presumably she had only to stand up,  say she'd had enough, and stroll out of the office and her job.  But with every stroke, she  was being driven into a strange and secret place, where two things happened - her arousal  reached such a pitch that she almost came spontaneously, while her emotions settled into a  deep, exquisite calm which swept away all her troubles, and left only peace.    Hence she squirmed and struggled and screamed and shouted and swore - but she loved  every minute of it!    For his part, Saunders couldn't believe how well things were turning out.  He'd made his  way through two, three piles of plates, and still that juicy, now well-reddened bum was  pointed in his direction.  The girl was obviously a natural.  Eventually, after a few somewhat  harder strokes, and with his own erection threatening to cause embarrassment, he stopped  caning her, and let her kneel down and rest against a chair, while he rubbed her bottom to  make it feel better.    Julie turned tearful, astonished, devoted eyes in his direction.  "Oh, Mr Saunders!" she  exclaimed, her voice laden with emotion.  "That was - "    Saunders had to help her to find the word.    "Mindblowing?"    "Yes!"   "Earthshattering?"    "Yes!"   "Horrendous?"    "Yes!!"   "Fantastic?"    "Yes!"   He patted her sore bottom contentedly, and kissed her gently on the forehead as she  leaned against him.    "Good girl.  You're learning fast.  Next time I'll tie you up, and you'll like it even better -  believe me!"    Before he let her go, Saunders gave Julie one more instruction.    "I'm adding another rule to your conditions of employment here.  You will wear a different  pair of panties every day - and I don't just mean clean, I mean completely different -  different colours, different styles.  I intend to lift your skirt up for a little inspection at the end  of every evening, and if I ever catch you wearing a pair of knickers I've seen before I shall  rip them off you and throw you into the street!  I'm giving you a panty allowance on top of  your wages, so there should be no excuse.  Now run along.  And don't forget," - this time he  definitely winked - "I shall be keeping an eye on your behaviour!"    Alone in bed, a little later, Saunders was letting himself get carried away with wild  fantasies.    In his mind's eye, all fifteen of his waitresses were now coming up to his office for regular  spankings, whippings and canings.  Their uniforms had become more severe from the waist  down - tight corsets, rubber skirts and thigh-length leather boots - while from the waist up,  they were completely absent!  Naked tits swaying and wobbling, the whole team would rush  around madly, obeying his every command, knowing that the tiniest slip from complete  perfection would result in yet more punishment on their already exceptionally sore bottoms!   The customers would be allowed to join in with the chastisement.  If there was anything  wrong with their food, their waitress would be blamed - and immediately yanked over  someone's lap for a humiliatingly public thrashing.  And he, The Boss, would be fucking  every one of them - usually two or three at a time!  And they would have to suck people off  under the tables as part of the service!  And they would put on spontaneous lesbian floor-  shows when they weren't busy!    Oh well, maybe one day.    Meanwhile, Julie was worrying about underwear.    She already had quite a large selection, but to fulfil Saunders' demand for a different pair  of panties every day would mean going from shop to shop and buying dozens more.  If he  really checked every day - and had a good memory - she would surely run out of ideas at  some point, though.  After all, how many different types of knickers could there be?    Well, there were plain ones and frilly ones and lacy ones, cotton ones and silk ones and  satin ones, spotty ones and stripy ones, ones with flowers on and ones with hearts on,  huge old-fashioned ones and miniscule stringy ones, ones with crude slogans on and ones  that were supposed to be edible, see-through ones and crotchless ones, rubber ones and  leather ones and PVC ones, black ones and white ones and red ones, and blue and pink  and purple and green and navy and orange and yellow and turquoise and...  (That's enough  knickers!)
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