Clumsy Girl

 Belinda turned around and reached for a box of products she was to put in the display window of the department store. As she did so, her round hips slammed into one of the shelves, sending it crashing down with a thunderous bang. Reaching to try and save any of it, she banged her elbow into the second display shelf, sending it down as well. All the intricate, delicately arranged displays, hours of effort, lay ruined on the floor. The other employees shook their heads and facepalmed. This wasn’t the first time she’d had an ‘accident’. The manager, Mr Jones, walked up to the bashful Belinda, who stood frozen in the middle of the mess she’d created.

“Enough is enough!” said Mr. Jones, his tone sharp and angry “Belinda, follow me to me office.”

“Oh, but Sir…”

“No ‘buts’, young lady, I’ve had quite enough of your excuses!”

The young girl looked down and twisted her fingers, looking for something to say, something to save her from what she knew was to come. The other employees had warned her: Mr Jones, as nice and fair a boss as he was, was pretty old-school when it came to discipline. They had told her he routinely spanked employees if they messed up. Surely, she had thought, they had been messing with her. Surely, it was just a prank to scare the newbie… Surely…

Hesitantly, she followed Mr Jones to his office, and closed the door that displayed a gold-lettered ‘Manager’ sign behind her. She was blushing, feeling scared and ashamed. Mr Jones had been very kind to her, patient despite her repeated mistakes. Now he seemed really cross. Even then, she couldn’t deny a certain attraction towards him. She’d always like authority; she liked to know her place in the world and being told what to do eased her anxiety. Still, her clumsiness had, once again, landed her in trouble.

Mr Jones pulled an object out of the top drawer of his desk and set it down on said desk with a wooden, heavy thud.

“Do you know what this is, Belinda?”

Her eyes widened.

“Hum… A… A hairbrush, Sir.”

“A hairbrush, exactly. Were you ever spanked before?”

“Sp-spanked, Herr? I… Hum… No, no, never…”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t need to draw you a picture…”

“But Sir, you are not… I mean, you ca not...”

“Can’t I? As I see it, this is very simple, Belinda. Either you take responsibility for your actions and accept your punishment, or you can go find another job.”

“No Sir, please! I love this job! But please…. That… That would be so humiliating…”

He nodded. “Yes. And hopefully that’ll stick with you.”

“I…”

“I’m not going to say it again. The spanking or the door, your decision.”

She hesitated, thinking about her job, her colleagues, her future, weighing her mistakes against the utter humiliation of being spanked like a little misbehaving brat. Then again, she had been careless — again — and she was ashamed of herself. She looked up at him, his groomed beard and neat, pulled back dreadlocks a picture of fatherly authority. She bit her lip and looked down.

“I do not want to lose my job…” she finally said.

Mr Jones nodded. “Very well then, I think you’re making the right decision.” He pointed at her, “Take your shirt and skirt off,” he said.

“But Herr… Mr Jones, please…”

“No arguing, Belinda! You’re not the first I’ve had to bring here for a ‘talk’”

“Yes, Sir…” she mumbled softly, and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. Her skirt was next, and she stood in front of him in her unflattering underwear, her cheeks already burning with humiliation. She felt tears welling in her eyes when she looked at the paddle again. Her hands behind her back, she tugged at the band of her panties, pulling them up in the vain hope of covering her large, round buttocks a little more.

Sitting in his office chair, he beckoned her over, and she came, submissively, to lay across his lap. His hand held her at the waist, firm, warm. She closed her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks. She deserved to be punished, she knew it. The first blow of the hairbrush came as she was about to say how sorry she was. Instead, she moaned loudly and kicked her legs. The hairbrush came down again, slapping across her round ass, setting it on fire. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep as quiet as she could. With each of the hard, heavy hits that followed, she felt the guilt leaving her, the pain washing it all way. The hairbrush fell again and again. Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks, and she sobbed with abandon, having never felt that relieved despite the shame, the humiliation, and the pain.

When her bottom felt like it couldn’t take any more of a beating, Mr Jones finally relented, and let her go. He directed her to the corner, where she stayed a long while, her hands over her head. Thoughts were racing through her head. She felt like the greatest weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt liberated. She knew now that there would be consequences for her mistakes. She didn’t have to internalise all the guilt anymore. She didn’t have to do it alone. Her bottom was still burning hot.