LOGAN'S MUTINY

[OTKLogan]

Logan’s Mutiny

I guess I’m like everyone else in the world. I treat people the way I’ve always wanted to be treated. It’s that Golden Rule thing. Only where I come from it’s, you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.

But every once in awhile you meet someone who doesn’t understand verbs and replaces “scratch” with “stab”.

Let me explain.

It was one of those months in the bar business.

I had planned a special appearance by a few of the local football celebrities. The team was in first place, the players were good looking, and the wide screens were working. I mean, I was counting the money from this promotion.

Then it happened. The skies opened for seventy-two hours straight. Oh sure, the players showed up and I had to shell out a few thousands bucks. But did the adoring fans show up? Yeah, you guessed right. Not one wet fanatic.

That was the start of the month. As we got into the second and third week I had two waitresses quit, a bartender found God and began to preach to the patrons on how to find Jesus so we showed him how to find the door. It’s not that I have anything against God, mind you, but preaching and drinking aren’t a good mixture no matter how good the bartender is.

So, I was down a few people and as Murphy would have written his law, I had more people in my club than I could handle with a full crew let alone a skeleton team.

That’s when she came into my office.

Darlene Herbert was a feisty lady who stood about five foot five and weighed in the range of a hundred and fifteen pounds. A good thirty of those pounds resided in her plump, well-rounded bottom.

Now it didn’t take young Miss Herbert to get to the point.

“Logan, I want a raise or I quit.” She spat.

“Well, hello to you to, Darlene.” I responded quickly calculating her strategy.

It was proscutto-thin: Logan’s hard up for help, I’ll stick it to him.

Makes sense to me. You’ve got to give her points for chutzpah. That’s Italian for “balls”.

“I work my ass off for you, Logan. And I think I should be recognized for what I do for the club.” Her voice was now beginning to resemble a needle going across a vinyl record album. And for those of you too young to remember that stop reading this story.

“I can’t argue with you, Darlene. You are one of the stars on the floor. You are exceptional. But I just gave you an increase about a month ago. You’re already makin’ more than anyone else is. And besides, didn’t I sign for your new car and new apartment?”

“Yeah, but this is business, Logan.” Was her quick response?




“Forgive me, Darlene, I’m getting a little old and my hearing really isn’t what it should be. Now what did you just say?” I said as I readjusted myself in the chair and listened intently. I didn’t want to miss a syllable.

“I said, this is business. I want more money per night and benefits. Or…” she said tossing her shoulder length red hair.

“Or what?”

“Or I quit. You either do what I just asked or I’ll quit. Right now. I’ll walk out that door and you’ll never see me again. It’s really not a difficult concept to grasp, Logan. It’s called supply and demand. And I’m demanding the money I deserve.”

Now I wouldn’t usually get that upset but the sly little smirk that appeared on her face after she insulted my intelligence and generosity put me on tilt.

“Darlene, a lot’s going to happen tonight but you quitting this job isn’t one of them. When you and that Neanderthal split up you needed wheels and a place to live. I made sure that happened. And now you come in here demanding more money? I think you’d better leave before this gets ugly.”

“Listen, Logan, the reason you did that is because I’m the best damn waitress in this club, hell, in this city. And I deserve it. Without me, you’re in deep shit.”

“What you deserve, girl, is a good old fashioned spanking. But that would be too easy. I have an idea. How about, you’re fired.”

There, I said it. It was the first time since I got into the bar game that I actually utter those words. But I didn’t think “why you ungrateful bitch” was PC in the twenty-first century.

“You can’t fire me.” She said as if she had backed into a cattle prod.

“I can. And I did. If you take a real good look at your check and at the front of this building, I believe it says “Logan’s”. That would be me. I have the right and I just exercised it.”

“You are such a bastard. I can’t believe you’d fire me. No way, Logan.” Darlene said standing up and leaning over my desk.

I leaned forward and delivered the final blow.

“And leave MY car in the parking lot. And get out of MY apartment by the end of the month which is about a week and a half from right now.” I said trying to keep a straight face.

That stunned her pretty good. All of a sudden the haughty, bravado began to crumble.

“What?” she eeked.

“Remember? My name is on the lease and on the pink slip, darlin’. Your name is nowhere to be found. Now, please leave. I have to find another waitress for tonight. And leave those keys on my desk. If you don’t I’ll call the cops if I have to. Like I said, let’s not make this ugly.”

A dam seemed to burst somewhere behind her forehead because her eyes were filling up with tears. Her lips began to tremor.

“Logan...”

“Yes, darlin’.” I syrupped.

“Lindsey.” She mumbled.

“Beg your pardon?”

This was getting weird. Had she changed her name in the last five minutes?

“Lindsey made me do it. She said if we threatened to quit you’d have to give us more money because you couldn’t find waitresses that fast and that tonight was the best time to do it. Because you’re short-staffed and all. I really didn’t want to do it. Really. You have to believe me, Logan.”

“Lindsey hasn’t quit.” I said as I scratched my head.

“She was going to come in after me and was going to ask you to give her the same thing you gave me. I’m sorry, Logan. Don’t fire me. Please. I need this job. I need the car. And I really need that apartment. I want to stay. Please, Logan.”

The poor thing was now begging for a job she was quitting just five minutes before. I was beginning to feel sorry for her. But she needed to be taught a lesson. And I was just the man to do her that favor.



“Darlene, you’ve acted like a spoiled little girl and that’s how you should be treated. I should take back that car and put your sweet cheeks on the street…”

“No, Logan, please don’t.” She interjected.

“Wait, I’m not finished. But I’m not going to do that.” I said as I got up from my chair and walked toward her.

“What I am going to do is what I said you needed a few minutes ago. You’re going to get that spanking. Right here. Right now.” I said with absolutely no room for argument or negotiations.

With that proclamation, I took her by the wrist and walked her to the chair in front of my desk.

“Thank you for not firing me, Logan. A what? A sp…” her gratitude was interrupted by her tumbling over my knee.

“Yes, dear, a spanking. It will do us both a world of good.”

“Logan. Eeek!”

The first smack found its target although that wasn’t so hard to miss. Like I said before, she was blessed in that area.

I spent the next three minutes peppering her bottom with spanks-with-a-purpose. She wriggled and kicked and squirmed.

“Logan, my bottom is stinging. Please. Stop. I think I’ve learned my lesson.” She stammered.

“Think again, darlin’.” I said as I tugged at the pair of cotton shorts she had covering her beautiful tush.

“Oh my God, Logan what are you doing? Don’t!” she exclaimed as she reached back to stop the inevitable.

“Sorry, Darlene, this needs to get done the right way.”

As I tugged at the waistband of the shorts and dragged them over her hips I could see she was wearing white cotton panties. I’ve gotta tell you. You can take a thousand silk panties and throw them in the ocean. A pair of bright, white cotton panties scream heaven to me.

A pink hue was sneaking out of the bottom of her panties. I pulled them down to cover her entire bottom. This was a bit of a problem as her well-cushioned cheeks strained against them.

“Logan, can we talk? Please. You can’t do this. I’m too old for a spanking.” Her voice quivered through her misjudgent.

“Oh, sweetness, you’re never too old for a spanking. Especially one like this.”

And so it went. I concentrated on the job at hand. Yeah, pun intended. I started from the bottom of her left cheek and delivered five up and down.

Hard.

If this woman was in water she could’ve swam the English Channel. Her legs churned and her fists beat a tattoo into my carpet.

Then, it had to happen. That moment when the lady gets a crystal clear understanding that this is a very real spanking. It erases any thought of reprieve or mercy.

I put my fingers in the waistband of her panties and with one purposeful yank they were down to the hollow of her kness.

“Logan!!!!!!!!! No!!!!!.” she wailed.

“Darlene. Yes.”

As I gazed down at the twin red cheeks I could see her try to minimize their size. It would be easier to teach a dog French.

“Do you hear it, Darlene?” I asked in a smooth voice.

“No, Logan. Hear what?” she sniffled.

“The bell. It’s the bell that just rung to let you know that it’s time to grow up. It’s time to stop listening to what you’re friends say and do what you think is right.”

“I know, Logan. You’re right. I’m really, really sorry. Can we stop now?” she asked as if she knew the answer.

The first hard slap imprinted itself on her right cheek and her body stiffened and straightened out to its entire length. By the time the sting reached her brain another five smacks found their mark.

I took a good five minutes teaching this woman a life’s lesson. After the third minute, the tears came with the cough and supplications of promising to be good.

She reached back to impede the process but I calmly took her wrist and held it tightly by her side. For the last two minutes, I threw my leg over the back of her thighs and gave her what had been lacking her entire life: a discipline spanking. No nonsense. No negotiations. No mercy.

Her bottom was hot crimson. There were a few red blotches here and there. And we both knew she wouldn’t be sitting for quite awhile.

When I stopped she continued to sob a little. Sniffled. Nothing out of control. But tears that signaled that she had received a sound spanking.

I rubbed my palm over her flaming cheeks and could feel the heat. I gently squeezed them. Patted them.

It was over.

I helped her up and sat her on my knee and held her. She sobbed into by neck and rubbed her scalded cheeks.

“Logan, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this to you. You’ve treated me better than I deserved. I don’t know what I would have done without you after he left me. Do you forgive me?” she stammered.

“Yes, darlin’, I forgive you if you forgive me. But somebody had to wake you up or you were headed for disaster, sweetness.” I said as I wiped away an errant tear.

“Forgive you? No, Logan. Thank you. You were there again when I needed someone.” She said as she placed a kiss on my cheek.

We hugged tightly.

She got up and pulled her panties and shorts up.

“Ouch. Logan, I’m burning up. My butt is on fire. Where did you learn to do that? I certainly learned my lesson. Ooooooh, I am a one well-spanked girl, you brute.” She giggled.

“Practice. Practice. Practice. By the way, Darlene, do me a favor.”

“Anything for you, Logan. Anything.” She cooed. Then she gave that inebriated look I’ve seen on quite a few ladies after they had their bottoms thoroughly spanked. It must be the endorphins or something.

“Send in Lindsey.”

“Oh no, Logan, what are you going to do?” she asked as she looked back and rubbed her cheeks.

“Well, she did say she wanted everything that you got, right?” I said checking my strength of my palm

“Yes she did.” One. Two… “Oh, Logan, you’re not…that poor girl.” Darlene laughed and winced and rubbed. “That poor, poor girl.”

Yeah. I did.

Yeah. It was the last time I had a mutiny on my hands.

And no, it wasn’t the last time either of them needed redirection. But that’s another story.