Aha! Kay Reid sat up straighter in her chair as she heard the floorboards on the stairway creaking. Someone was obviously sneaking downstairs. Experience told her they’d be making their surreptitious way towards the kitchen, a kitchen which was out of bounds to everyone except the chef. For days now he’d been complaining that food was going missing. She’d been right to stay awake and on guard.
Leisurely, Kay stretched out her tennis-toned arms then tiptoed towards her bedroom door, the mirror showing her five-foot-eight frame in her favorite khaki shirt and matching army surplus trousers. Heart starting to beat harder, she flexed her firm, right spanking palm. As owner of Trim Camp, she’d found that keeping discipline sometimes involved more than an inspirational lecture. A sly slap to the back of some eighteen-year-old’s thighs was usually enough to take the overeater’s mind away from pasta. A shaming spank to a jean-clad rump usually shocked a young woman into more sensible snacking, the option being going to college in the Fall still looking fat.
Kay was there to see that they got slim. That’s why they’d enrolled at Trim Camp, paid thousands of dollars to live on this campus near Los Angeles. Kay talked to them, watched over them and weighed them, was the British slimming leader who’d gotten first class results here in the States.
And would continue to do so. Kicking open the kitchen door and turning on the light in one coordinated move, she inhaled hard and got ready to shout at her failing teenage slimmer. Felt her mouth slacken as she saw who the culprit was. “Lynette!” Lynette, a fellow Brit, was her recently-appointed Junior Diet Lecturer. She’d already ticked the girl off for weighing more than she should have on Weigh-In Day.
Kay stared at her trainee, who stood clutching three thick slices of imported Scottish cheddar, meant to be doled out in small squares to successful slimmer’s. The large multi-grain loaf, pound of butter and jar of pickles on the kitchen worktop told of her plans.
“Sorry – sudden snack attack,” she muttered, reddening.
“According to the chef, you’ve been having them every night.”
“I’ve . . .” The girl rubbed one bare foot behind an equally bare suntanned leg. Her thigh-length nightie rose at the awkward movement, showing the lower half of her chubby buttocks. “Well, the dinners have been small recently.”
“And I’ve told you to make a second trip to the Salad Bar,” Kay reminded her. “What am I always telling the girls? Choose fiber over fat.”
“Sorry, Miss Reid. I am – really.” The girl turned to put the dairy products away.
“No – leave them out. I want you to look at them while you’re being punished.” She let the younger woman dwell for long seconds on the humiliating words. They reverberated around her own head, giving her an unmistakable frisson. This would be the first time she’d disciplined a staff member aged twenty-two . . .
She stared at the blonde girl’s slightly rounded tummy and made her voice especially hard. “What happens if you get plump?”
The younger woman swallowed. “I . . . get sent home, Miss.”
“So perhaps you should think about packing?” That image should make her think twice.
“But I don’t want to go home!”
“Then what do you think we should do with you?”
“You could . . .” The girl played convulsively with her long hair, winding it around her right hand in nervous tendrils. “I won’t do it again.”
“But stealing and stealth still deserve chastisement.”
“I know.” The diet lecturer dipped her head.
“What you need is a good spanking,” Kay added. She held her breath, watched the hot shame redden the girl’s face and neck and stay there. Young women who were completely uninterested in punishment or in femme2femme always told her to go to hell or threatened to take her to a tribunal at this stage. But Lynette merely stood there, blushing, waiting for further instruction. It was time to go for it.
Kay took hold of the wooden armless chair and pulled it out into the center of the room. She sat down and patted her lap with obvious inference. “Now get that over-indulgent little bum over my knee.”
Lynette blushed some more, moved from the ball of one bare foot to the other: “But what . . . what if another Camp member comes in?”
“The kitchen’s out of bounds, so they’d be transgressing. I suppose I’d have to spank you both, or even make you take turns spanking each other. I’d quite like to watch – and direct – for a change.”
“You mean you’ve done this before?” Lynette’s eyes were wide and fixed and slightly glassy. She resembled a somewhat chunky Barbie doll, someone who wanted to be conventionally pretty but was unwilling to exercise or eat healthily to get in shape.
“Mmm, frequently. More often than I’d have liked.”
That last sentence was a lie. Kay loved to feel a young, firm female bottom under her hands, adored making the flesh jerk and redden. Ached with desire as she found her rhythm and caused the owner of the bum to emit little squeals and louder cries. Enjoyed everything from the first moment when she pulled down their panties and told them what she was going to do to their silky-soft hemispheres, to the last seconds when she let them slide, whimpering, from her knee.
“I think I’ll use the wooden spoon on you for taking so long to acquiesce to your punishment,” Kay said, her vulva twitching at the thought of baring Lynette’s nightdress-covered bottom, “That’s after your spanking for breaking our kitchen rules, of course.” She made eye contact with the younger girl. “If you don’t come over here now I’ll have to fetch you, and that equals an even sorer bum.”
“If you’d lock the door?”
“No, bad girls have to take their chances.” She patted her lap again. “All this procrastination is earning you the hottest ass.”
Lynette glanced at the door. She stared at the food she’d removed from the fridge then reread the notice on the wall which warned slimmer’s that they’d lose privileges for dietary transgressions. Slowly she approached her superior, her feet dragging on the warm floor.
“There!” Kay took hold of the girl’s nerveless wrists, “That wasn’t so difficult.” She started the controlling sideways pull that would win her this pouting blonde victim, get her positioned and held defenselessly in place.
Hauling the junior lecturer down, she maneuvered her across her knees, caught sight of them both in the chrome panel of the cooker. Kay looked strong and slightly sturdy, her short auburn hair and large dark eyes giving her the appearance of control, of presence. The girl over her lap had a fair-haired, slender prettiness of a more traditional kind.
“Right, let’s get that ass warmed,” Kay said, looking down at the bum curves outlined by the thin, embroidered cotton. She slid a roving palm beneath the garment and stroked the girl’s twitching rear. “How fortuitous – you aren’t wearing any knickers. Maybe you secretly wanted to be caught and thrashed?” She squeezed more strongly at the still-hidden prize, watching the back of the blonde girl’s neck pinken with embarrassment.