by Frank Limadere
Kimberley Kennedy, receptionist for the unique Clarkstown establishment, the Spank Shop, glared at the Excel spreadsheet on her computer monitor and frowned.
How could this have happened? Somehow two people had been booked for exactly the same time on the same day. The stunningly attractive, blonde, adolescent receptionist prided herself on her bookwork and this was very unlike her.
If she could not work this out and reschedule someone, then the two clients who had been inadvertently booked at the same time would not be only ones getting their bottoms warmed by the shop's elegant and competent proprietress, Andrea Mahoney.
A soft sob came from one of the corners of the room and Kimberley looked up. An eighteen-year-old girl with short brown hair, wearing a yellow apron that was open in the back, stood in the corner, hands on head, sporting the unmistakable evidence of a sound spanking on her plump bottom. "It won't be long, Pammy," Kimberley told the girl kindly, "and Penny and Paul will soon be joining you in the corners."
The girl in the corner was one of the Harper triplets. Unfortunately for Pam, Andrea had chosen to spank her first. Sister Penelope was over Andrea's knee as they spoke, having her own situpon spanked to a scorching lobster red by the experienced disciplinarian. The third triplet, Paul, was in a different room being attended to by Gabrielle Kennedy, Kimberley's mother.
The Clarkstown matron was a part time employee and Kimberley would be willing to bet that the young man was probably wishing he had never met Aunty Gabrielle, as she was now spanking fire into every part of his bottom using a stout rectangular oak hairbrush, which had in fact been supplied by the children's mother.
If Kimberley was quiet and listened hard she could hear both of them being chastised. There was the crack of leather meeting tender buttock flesh from Andrea's parlour and Kimberley winced as Penny wailed in reply. Andrea was using the leather sole of a broad, supple bedroom slipper to punish the girl's derriere and Kimberley knew from painful experience just how much that stung.
From the other room came the sound of a flat, heavy hairbrush striking an unprotected male backside and answering howls from Paul. Kimberley gave a low whistle, her mother was really roasting Paul. Plenty of trips over that same maternal lap had taught Kimberley a healthy respect for the strength of her mother's arm and her thoroughness when she had a brush in hand. With effort, Kimberley shut her ears to the noises emanating from the rooms and the accompanying mental images of glowing red bottoms writhing as slipper and hairbrush heated them to furnace-like temperatures.
"How could you have been so stupid, Kimberley Susan?" the girl asked herself, once again examining her spreadsheet. She had not even made the bookings on a day when her mother was working - if she had there would not be a problem. One of the clients was an adult, so it would probably not be easy to alter times, the other one may not be so simple. Kimberley knew the person who had made the appointment and she had her hand on the phone just about to ring the lady to see if they could reschedule when the bell above the door tingled. Kimberley's hand left the telephone receiver and she turned to greet the new arrivals. Her cheery welcome died on her lips as she saw who was entering the shop.
Joelle Clemenceau and a tall, slender blonde girl. Kimberley knew Mademoiselle Joelle Clemenceau and did not like her one bit. The haughty French woman was an old friend of Andrea's.
On the first occasion that she and Kimberley had encountered each other the receptionist had taken an instant dislike to the older woman's arrogant manner and been extraordinarily insolent to her.
This had led to their second meeting being an extended journey for Kimberley over Joelle's lap. Kimberley's cheeks still burned with embarrassment whenever she recalled that long and unpleasant morning. Her only interaction with the French lady since that time had been by phone and she had been at pains to be extremely polite.
For reasons Kimberley did not understand, Aunty Andrea was friends with Joelle and she felt sure that if she was not at least civil to Joelle then word would get back to her employer and her bottom would once again be roasted.
Kimberley would accept the occasional spanking from Andrea for things like making a mistake with the appointments, but there was something shaming about getting one for being rude to Joelle and she hated feeling that she had somehow let Andrea down.
It was not the presence of the French lady that had tongue-tied Kimberley, it was her companion. That face and form were famous the world over, they belonged to Karen 'KM' Moore, one of the world's most successful and well-known supermodels.
The woman advertised everything from soft drinks to luxury sports cars. Kimberley was like many girls her age - impressed by beautiful, self-assured, wealthy and famous women not that much older than her, such as the world renowned 'KM'. What on earth would Karen Moore be doing here? Kimberley knew that Joelle worked in the fashion industry, but the fact that she knew someone like 'KM' really impressed the teenager.
"Mademoiselle Clemenceau," Kimberley greeted Joelle coolly.
"Bonjour Kimberlee," Joelle replied brightly, in her accented English. "Is Andee free?"
"She's with a client at present ma'am," Kimberley responded respectfully. "May I offer you and your friend some refreshment whilst I inform her you are here and wait for her to finish up?"
"That would be magnifique, Kimberlee, merci. Do you know Karen?"
"Only by reputation, ma'am."
Joelle nodded her head and made introductions. "Kimberlee Kennedee meet Karen Moore."
"Delighted." Kimberley smiled at the somewhat sullen supermodel.
"Yeah, whatever," Karen said, without even looking at the receptionist.
Kimberley hid her scowl. Yes, the woman was famous, but would it have hurt to at least acknowledge her presence? "What would you and Miss Moore like to drink Mademoiselle Clemenceau?"
"Café au lait, s'il vous pla"t," Joelle responded.
Kimberley smiled, she had anticipated the lady's request - Joelle loved her coffee with milk.
"Water, imported, in a glass," Karen said, folding herself elegantly into a chair and for the first time noticing that there was a red-bottomed woman decorating a corner.
Kimberley went into the kitchen, she put the kettle on for Joelle's coffee and then opened the refrigerator and stared at the jug of iced water that was kept there for clients. What was imported water? Karen must have meant Perrier or something.
Kimberley had never really seen the point of bottled water in developed countries with regular supplies of clean drinking water, especially when you were in a city or a suburb. Tap water was perfectly fine to drink and it cost considerably less. It would not have surprised the teenager to learn that bottled water was just tap water in a fancy container with some marketable name.
In any case there was nothing like that in the shop's refrigerator. Kimberley shrugged and took the jug of iced water out, poured some into a sparkling clean glass and then prepared Joelle's coffee.
Joelle accepted her coffee with thanks and Karen had to be gently advised that her water was there as she was still staring at Pamela Harper's glowing red bottom. Joelle blew on her coffee to cool it and then sipped delicately; the smile she directed Kimberley's way told the girl that she enjoyed the beverage. Karen sipped her water and then scowled into the glass. "Is this what I asked for?" she enquired imperiously.
Kimberley tossed her mane of golden hair and favoured the model with a dazzling smile. "I poured it myself," she replied, casually avoiding answering the question.
Karen let it slide and then went to the issue that genuinely concerned her. "What happened to her?" she asked, indicating the sobbing teenager in the corner.
Kimberley laughed. "Pammy was a naughty girl and had her bottom burned by Aunty Andrea. Her sister is getting her situpon scorched as we speak and her brother is over my mother's lap having his rump roasted."
There was something in the playful way Kimberley spoke about the punishments that chilled Karen to the bone. She mouthed the words, 'Oh my God!' and directed a look of horror at Joelle. The French lady sipped her coffee and smiled serenely.
"I'll just see if Miss Andrea will be long, ma'am," Kimberley offered.
"Merci, Kimberlee," Joelle thanked her.
"Miss Andrea," Kimberley spoke into the intercom.
The device crackled and sound floated through it into reception: CRACK! "OOOWWWOOOHHHHOOOO!"
"What is it, Kimberley? I am right in the middle of Penelope's hiding."
"Oh yes, I can hear that, ma'am. She's putting on a nice little concert. You have a visitor."
There was another loud report of slipper striking tender buttock flesh and an answering howl, then Andrea spoke again. "Who is it, Kim?"
"It's Mademoiselle Clemenceau, miss."
"Joelle!"
"Yes, ma'am and she has a..." Kimberley searched for a word to describe Karen and then looked at Joelle for assistance. The French woman mouthed the word 'client' and Kimberley finished off. "Client for you."
"Lovely," Andrea said, as she applied another lusty stroke of her slipper to Penelope Harper's frantically wriggling, scarlet rear end and was rewarded with a squeal and a heartfelt, "I'm sorrreeeee!"
"Penny will soon be cooked and I'll send her out, you can let Joelle and her customer in then, dear."
"Yes, ma'am." Kimberley cut the connection and told a smiling Joelle and a stunned Karen. "She won't be long."
Karen sipped her water and kept casting worried looks at Pamela's glowing bottom in the corner. Kimberley had been telling the truth and it was not long before the door to Andrea's parlour opened and Pamela's sister, Penelope, emerged. The second of the triplets was also dressed in a yellow apron and tears were streaming down her face. Her hands hovered over a tomato red bottom and Andrea's voice said sharply, "Try to rub that bottom, young lady, and you can march it right back in here. I've got a two tailed tawse that would fit your rump nicely."
Penelope's back stiffened and she gulped hard, before clenching her hands into fists to prevent them from touching her super heated back end and trying to soothe some of the ache that Andrea's slipper had given to her. Kimberley rose from her chair and said to Joelle and Karen, "Mademoiselle Clemenceau, Miss Moore, if you would like to go through, Miss Andrea will see you now."
"Merci, Kimberlee," Joelle told the receptionist, rising and coaxing an obviously reluctant Karen to follow her. "Come on, cherie. Andee will not bite."
Kimberley had her arm around Penelope Harper's shaking shoulders and was saying gently to the soundly spanked eighteen-year-old, "C'mon, Penny. Let's get you into a corner. Paul will be joining you and Pam soon. Mum's almost done with him. You'd better put your hands on your head, sweetheart. You don't want to have to go over Aunty Kimberley's lap for another dose because you rubbed without permission."
Andrea was seated in her favourite armchair by the fireplace. She was relaxed with one silk sheathed leg crossed over the other and greeted the two newcomers with a seraphic smile. "Joelle, Miss Moore, it is a pleasure."
"You know me?" Karen queried as she took a seat next to Joelle on a sofa.
One of the professional disciplinarian's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose at the question. "I think you're being falsely modest there, young lady. You have one of the world's most well known faces and bodies. Can I offer either of you refreshment?"
"Kimberlee attended to us, Andee," Joelle answered for both.
"I don't think my water was imported," Karen muttered with a scowl.
Andrea ignored the complaint and rang through to Kimberley for tea.
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