The Clumsy Waiter

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Conversation had stopped among the diners at The Three Fishers. Even those who had missed the spilling of the wine, and the outraged protest by Col. JEB Charleigh, the district’s chief magistrate, had finally been distracted by the unmistakeable sound of a spanking in progress.

It was only Jake Wiltshire’s second week as a waiter, but already his inattention and dereliction of duty had become a talking point. Headwaiter Mr. Alphonso’s patience was exhausted. Within moments the twenty-two-year-old found himself trousers at the ankles, underpants at the knees, face down across the head waiter’s knees.

Mr. Alphonso spanked hard and fast, without reference to his surroundings. Jake deserved all he was getting – and then some more. “This is just the beginning,” he stuttered breathlessly. “Your backside will be at least the colour of the vintage burgundy you managed to throw over the colonel’s suit. And, you’ll pay for the damage from your wages.” He slapped across Jake’s bottom and into the under-crease where the bum meets the thighs, “And, I’m not going to stop until Colonel Charleigh says so.”

Col. Charleigh eased his buttocks on the padded dining chair and stretched to get a better view. He had taken a special interest in Jake the first time he had been served by him. It wasn’t the boy’s clumsiness, that would be noticed later; it was his fresh open face and boyish smile, the way his hair was gelled, the broad shoulders and the slender hips.

Mr. Alphonso was as good as his word. Jake’s once creamy-white, hairless buttocks had already turned dark pink and as the headwaiter’s hard, calloused hand spanked continuously rat-a-tat-tat into the muscular buttocks dark patches were appearing.

The colonel smirked and crossed his legs, especially engaged by the soft “ahhhs” and “ouches” escaping the young waiter’s lips. He leaned across the table to his fidgeting companion. “This reminds me, Allen,” he said. “Did you clean up the study today as I asked? Or is another naughty boy going to be having his bare bottom smacked when we get back?”

Allen squirmed in his seat. He had been about to ask for the bill, but now he was in no hurry. He had little appetite for the dessert awaiting him at the manor.

Picture credit: Mancspank

Other stories you might like

Warren’s awakening

The boy in the tree

Waiting my turn


More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website


Charles Hamilton the Second

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