Chapter 1

Four years ago, the summer I turned 14, I took a job as a Shoney’s waitress. I had actually wanted to start a year earlier. However, they won’t hire anyone younger than 14, even in Mississippi with its freewheeling minor labor laws.

The general manager was this super sexy older woman named Inga. Tall, blonde, and curvaceous, her beautiful face and rocking body haunted my dreams from the moment I first laid eyes on her. To say she was old enough to be my mother would be a bit of an understatement, she was 47, which was 5 years older than my mother. To say I didn’t care about that wouldn’t really be truthful, it actually made her more appealing to me. She also had the sexiest little German accent.

All the females had essentially the same uniform, from general manager Inga down to me, the newest hire, with just a little variation. It was essentially a sundress, with different colors for different jobs. You could have your dress as long as you wanted, but no shorter than mid-thigh. Inga chose to have hers mid-thigh, showing off her sexy long legs from that point down. I tried so hard to listen to what she was telling me, rather than just get lost in the mental image of those sexy legs wrapped around my neck, with mixed results.

Then it was almost like she was trying to make it difficult to think about anything other than sex. Sitting there cross-legged, talking with me one-on-one about the way the restaurant was run. They had these cutting boards that were specifically for cutting fudge and most other dessert-type items except pie, but they were really just paddles. You look at one of these cutting boards, you see a paddle. She was still holding one as she explained that pie is to be cut right in the pie pan, it wouldn’t fit right on one of these paddle boards, and would probably stain it. This would result in whoever did it being “disciplined,” which was the segue into the subject of employee discipline. Of course, she meant write-ups and termination. But looking at her holding that paddle, listening to her talk about being very “strict” when it comes to “administering discipline to [her] employees,” how could I be expected not to picture myself over her knee with her administering a long, hard paddling to my bare bottom in front of the whole rest of the staff?

Then Inga had me work with Maureen, the head waitress for some on-the-job training. Maureen was another sexy older lady. Brunette, less curvaceous, a little younger, and with no accent, she wasn’t nearly as alluring as Inga, but she was still pretty hot. When I compare physical attributes there was no contest, Inga was sexier by far, and she also had that accent and was an authority figure. You might think Maureen couldn’t compete with that at all. And she wouldn’t want to. Her not wanting to is sort of the very way she did in fact close the gap a little bit. Maureen was an uptight evangelic Christian who was offended by anything remotely sexual. Just the idea of being able to “turn” someone like that and get her to make-out with me is very erotic to me.

During a hot make-out session, I work my way down to Maureen’s neck and explore it with my lips and tongue as I unzip the back of her dress. Far from trying to stop me, she helps me slip her dress off of her. I take off her bra. Her breasts are starting to sag slightly, they are just right. The slight lack of form and firmness of the breasts stands in sharp contrast against her nipples hard enough to cut glass. Hearing her begging me to work my way on down her body to her hot wet pussy would be more of a turn-on than actually doing it. Better yet, I get her to beg to eat mine and offer to pay me for it. I won’t take money. I agree to let her do it, but only in front of the pulpit of her church. Right in the middle of Christmas service. No, make it Easter service, so she has to wait longer for it. She has to beg a little more, in front of everybody who turned out for Easter service, and then she can go down on me right then and there. That’s my ultimate fantasy involving one-on-one sex with Maureen.

With Inga it’s a completely different dynamic. I want her to pull my hair, push my face into her pussy, and order me to eat it. Maybe she handcuffs me to a bed and whips me with a tawse. Perhaps I have clamps on my nipples. Or she just pins me over her knee and gives me a long, hard belt whipping, lecturing and scolding me the whole time. She might make me tongue her butt-hole, or even just massage her feet. Any or all of these in front of other people would be hotter still. Those would be my top choices, the things I would request given a chance. I would do anything and everything she wants. I just want to be her submissive little bitch and bring her to multiple orgasms.

So anyway, Maureen was showing me the ropes. We were standing by one of the counters in the kitchen as she went over the layout of the order pad with me and told me to study it and the menu. I couldn’t help but notice that the counter-tops were right at my waist level. It would be easy for me to bend over one of them and put my backside on display, for someone to do with it as she will. State law requires minors to take breaks, so I went on break. The break area is just a few yards from where Maureen still was, sorting, buffing, and rolling silverware.

Mary, a prep cook, happened to be there close by working with fudge. Mary was a beautiful 17-year-old black girl who was going to start college in the fall on a gymnastics scholarship. So hot and sexy.

They were positioned in such a way that one person could stand between them. I was walking from the break area to that spot, talking with Mary. She had caught me staring at her legs and made a coy flirty comment about it. Maureen gave her the evil eye. While Mary was going for a coy flirt I was much more direct. I said that she needed a tongue in her pussy and offered her mine.

Maureen said, “You need a good spanking, young lady!” and smacked my bottom.

I bent over the counter and said, “Go ahead, I probably deserve it.”

She alternated cheeks, giving each one half a dozen solid smacks, each one a little harder than the one before it. I just stayed in position and let her do it. Finally she said, “Do you like that or something?”

“If you spanked me harder I would.”

Maureen just took a step back, a look of shock and disgust on her face. By this time Mary was finished with the fudge. She picked up the paddle board and gave me a couple of good swats. CRACK! CRACK! Not hard, but enough to give a little sting. She said, “Like that?”

“Harder!” Mary complied. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I said “harder” again. I saw Maureen walking away out the corner of my eye as Mary continued to paddle me. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! “Please, spank me harder!” By this point she was doing it pretty hard. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! “Harder!” She lifted up the back of my dress, draped it over my back, and proceeded to spank me harder on my underwear. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

By this time Maureen had come back and she brought Inga. My dress was still lifted up, my lace underwear on display for all to see. Inga took the paddle board from Mary, put her hand on my back to hold me down, and spanked me about twice as hard as Mary’s hardest swat. I squirmed some and tried just hard enough to stand up that she had to use a little force to hold me down. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! She let me loose and scolded, “Now get back to work!”

I stood up, rubbed my bottom, and said, “I’m on break.” Giving her the best bedroom eyes I could muster I added, “But you should give me a real spanking. I’m sure I deserve it.”

Putting down the paddle board she said, “I’ll deal with you in a minute, young lady!” Then to Mary, “You know this type of horseplay isn’t allowed. I need to see you in the office!”

I said, “Please don’t write her up. I was the troublemaker.”

Inga gritted her teeth. “I said I’ll deal with you in a minute!” She led Mary to the office. It really did take just a minute to write her up. She would later downgrade it to a verbal warning. But first she came back to deal with me. Inga picked the paddle board back up, gave me a stern look, and said, “A real spanking? Be careful what you ask for. You might get it!”

“I am asking. Please, I’ve earned it.”

“I can give you the spanking you think you want. I’ll hold you over my knee and give your bare bottom a good long paddling, much harder than what I already gave you. You will fight to get away but I will continue to tan your hide until I’m satisfied you won’t instigate this kind of shenanigans again. If you think you can handle that, bring this to me.” With that she set the paddle board on the counter, walked to the break area, turned a chair to face me, and sat down.

I didn’t have to think about it for more than a second. I carried the paddle board over and handed it to her. “I’m ready for my punishment.”

Inga pulled her already short dress up a little more and spread her legs enough for me to get between them and bend over her knee. “OK, Missy, let’s get this over with.”

I pulled down my underwear and lifted up my dress. My pussy was already starting to leave a wet spot on the front and I didn’t want it to get bigger, so I lifted the front as well as the back. I went ahead and bent right over Inga’s knee, my bare pussy now against her bare thigh. She locked my legs in place with her other leg and used her left hand to pin both of my wrists to the small of my back. Her stronger right arm brought the paddle down on my bare bottom with all of her considerable strength.