Logan: The Mother of All Spankings

[OTKLogan]

A Mother Of a Spanking

What is it about making money that makes me so happy?
I’m sorry but if that makes me a shallow person then call me Mister Puddle. I love money and everything it can buy.
This particular day I was more than happy. I was downright giddy.
The night before we had a record night at the bar and at the door. So, nothing could put me in a bad mood.
Or so I thought.
Now, I have very few rules and they’re not that difficult to abide by. The most important one is lateness. If you’re late that shows major disrespect for your job, your fellow workers, and your boss. And in this case, that’s me. The rule is simple: three times late, you’re gone. No negotiations. No arguments. Period. Simple concept to grasp. Or so you would think.
The night before was so busy I didn’t have time to notice too much. Hell, for about an hour, my sorry ass was pouring drinks. So when I got a voicemail from my manager, Al Beverati that Nicole was late that night I was floored. Not only late but “third time” late. She was the best I had. And now, I had to bounce her.

While I was thinking this over there was a knock on the front door. Now usually no one approaches the front door of a nightclub during the day. Most deliveries and employees enter through the back door. So I was curious to whom this could be. I walked to the door and looked out the porthole window. There was an attractive lady clicking her keys against the glass.
“What can I do for you?” I asked. My breath left a fleeting ghost on the glass.
“I’m looking for Logan.” She said a bit too loud.
“Well, I’m Logan. What can I do for you?” I didn’t have time for radio salespeople, Valpak pushers, or Jehovah Witnesses. After all, I was counting dirty, filthy, money.
“I need to talk to you about Nicole.” She barked.


Now she had my attention. “Hold on.”
I fumbled through my pocket and found my keys. I stabbed the lock and opened the door. She glided into the club. My eyes adjusted to the blast of sunlight and caught a glimpse of a very round bottom testing the limits of a tight pair of cotton pants. Her hair was brown with blond streaks shoulder length and bounced in counter rhythm to the rolling swells of her cheeks.
Her scent was fresh and clean. That summer shower kind of clean.

The lady stopped short and turned to face me. Her beauty almost knocked me down. She was older than most women who came into the club. My guess? Between 45 and 50. She was about five eight. Her weight between one-twenty to one-thirty.
It was refreshing to see a woman who wasn’t spindly or cadaverous. But this woman knew her way around a gym. Her thighs were toned and well defined. She had an electric tan but that didn’t take away from her breathtaking beauty.
“We have a problem, Logan.” She announced matter-of-factly.
“We do? And who do I have a problem with if I may be so bold to ask?”
“I’m Cynthia Bennett, Nicole’s mother.” Her hand thrust out and clamped on to mine. She shook it up and down with purpose and in a manner as if she was keeping time with a song on the radio. If her hand jobs were anything like her handshake, there’d be a line of men from here to Beijing waiting for that joy.








“Glad to meet you Ms. Bennett. Now, what’s our problem?” I said as serious as I could as I slowly lifted her top and slid down her pants with my eyes.
“Nicole was late last night. And that’s the third time she’s been late in the last year. I know your policy and I’m here to explain why she was late.”
I put my hand up to hold off any more of the conversation.
“Now hold on, Ms. Bennett. We don’t have the problem. Nicole has the problem. I will discuss this matter with her. I admire you maternal reaction but this is really between Nicole and me.”
She looked at me as if I placed a turd on her top lip.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that. Look, Logan, you seem like a reasonable man. This business has to be hell. Keeping help these days is a bitch. And keeping great help like my Nicole is damn near impossible. Am I right?”
Why did this woman have to be so good-looking and so right?


“No one understands the constraints of today’s economy, Ms. Bennett. But I run this business my way. I hope you can understand that. This is a tough business and I don’t need people making it any tougher for me. So I thank you for your concern and opinion but I think I’ll handle this situation myself.”
I walked toward the door as I finished the last sentence. No one was following me.
“Wait just a second. It was me.” She confessed.
I stopped mid-stride.
”Huh?”
Yeah, I can be quite the conversationalist.
“I was the reason Nicole was late last night.”
“I’m sorry but I’m not connecting here. I need a bit more information.” I said as I walked closer to the woman. She didn’t budge an inch.
“I took the car and didn’t bring it back until after nine-thirty.”
“But…”


“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know her shift starts at nine. But I had cancelled this nail appointment twice and I couldn’t miss it again. You know how those Russian woman get.” She said with a giggle as if I grew up in Moscow and understood the sensibilities and temperament of Olga and her team of manicurists.


“You mean to tell me you cost your daughter her job because you had to get your nails done?”
She sneered: “Boy, Logan, not much gets by you does it? That’s exactly what I just said. Now, let’s stop this bullshit and forget about firing Nicole.”
My day wasn’t getting any better.
“It’s amazing how well Nicole turned out in spite of having a mother as selfish and self-centered as you. I feel sorry for her but I feel more sorry for you. You’re the one who has to go back to her and tell her you’re the reason she got fired. Hell, show her your nails. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“You’re still going to fire her? You can’t. No way. It was my fault.”
“Very true. But I can’t fire you now, can I?”
That question got her attention.
“What can you do?” she baited.
“Huh?” de je vu.
“I said is there something you could do to me instead of her so she can keep her job?”
Resisting temptation isn’t my strong suit.
“I know what I’d like to do.”
“Tell me.”
“No, darlin’, I don’t need a law suit.”
“Logan, I’ll do anything. Really. You made me feel awful. Let’s do it.” She said beginning to unbutton her blouse.

“Stop right there. What do you take me for? Button that shirt and please leave.”
Yeah, I know. What the hell was I thinking? Must’ve been the heat that day.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you were going to say.” She said stamping her foot once as if she was a horse counting out the I.Q. of a super-model.
“I was going to say that you need a good old fashioned spanking to get your priorities straight.”
Her face exploded into a cackle “You’ve got to be kidding. A spanking? At my age? Get real.”
“This is reality, girl. Your daughter is going to be out on her ass unless you get yours tanned. Your choice. You were the irresponsible kid last night. Not her. So?”
“You mean, right here? How? I can’t believe this. Couldn’t I just give you…I mean, you could…oh, let’s talk about this, Logan.”
The look in my eyes did all the talking.
“Is it going to hurt? I’ve never been spanked. At least not in a long time. Ok. When?”

The way I saw it actions spoke louder than words. I grabbed her by the arm, pulled out a chair and yanked her over my knee in one smooth swift motion.


“Now would be a good time, darlin’.”
SMACK!
The first swat rang off the walls, as did her reaction:
“Yeow! Logan! No!”
The next fifty warmed up those cotton pants and I could feel her well-cushioned cheeks squeeze and release catching them at the right moment.
“Oh, Logan, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Really. Stop.”
I took that particular time to become as deaf as a doorstop.
My palm stung but I could tell I was getting her attention. Her legs frogged back and forth. Her fist was giving the floor one hell of a beating.
I stopped and stood her up. Her hands flew to her bottom and she marched in step biting her lip before realizing what I was doing.
By the time I took her pants down and flipped her back over my knee she didn’t have time to react. An exhaust of breath escaped as I looked at her pink cheeks quivering out of the bottom of her panties.
“You won’t be needing these.” I said as I slid my fingers under the waistband and bared her well-deserving bottom.







“Oh, Jesus, Logan, no, not that. Please leave them up. Nooo, don’t take down my pant…..”
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!!!
Her cheeks wobbled, quaked, rippled. I delivered a few dozen to the tops of her thighs. A watermelon red began to stain her alabaster skin.
“What was going through your mind, miss? Your daughter works her tail off every night. She’s never missed a day in her life. Late? Sure. But to put her job in jeopardy is not acceptable. Understood?”
I punctuated the scolding with a volley of well-intentions slaps on the red swells of her buns.
“Logan, please, I’m so sorry. My butt is burning. Please. Stop. Oooooooooohhhhhhh, no.”
I held her tighter and then got down to work. She snaked her body as if she her bones had been replaced by electric wires and tried grab her cheeks. I took her wrist and put it behind her back as I continued my mission of changing this lady’s behavior.
Red turned to crimson.
And then I noticed it.

Her hips began to arch after each scorching slap. After that observation, I gave her twenty more in steady cadence. I stopped and watched. Her hips continued to arch up and down. Her protestations turned to mews. Grunts. Whimpers. I lightened up my grasp around her waist. Her legs snapped open wide. A wetness coated her upper thighs. Her breath was panting and erratic. I let go of her wrist and she gripped my ankle.
I let my hand drift along her well-spanked cheeks and rested at the sweet spot. It was drenched with thick, hot nectar. My fingers crept closer to the heat that now matched the blaze that engulfed her bottom. I invited myself into the wet oven of sex. Her head flung backwards. She snarled: “Oh, God, Logan, yes.”
“Ah, no, darlin’, not yet. Get up and walk over to that stool.”
She craned her neck with eyes that were holding back a tidal wave of tears. “Please?”







I gave her a light tap on her spine.
“Up and over that stool, miss.”
“It’s not fair.” She whined as she penquined her way to the stool with her pants shackling her ankles. Her cheeks metronomed in a blaze of red covering every square inch of a mature, plump, spankable bottom. “Do I have to?” The rhetorical question hit the floor as fast as her stomach hit the top of the stool. She looked back at me and witnessed in wide-eyed wonder as I slithered my belt through the waistband of my pants. It whispered through the last loop and I doubled the strap and snapped it.
“You are overdue for a good old fashioned country ass whippin’, girl. Hold tight to the legs of the stool.”
“Logan….”
The first stroke covered her entire bottom and her hips bounced up and down. A wide stripe of red was emblazoned on her sore, red cheeks.
“Yeow! Oh no, I can’t take any more.”

I continued to give her the strapping of her life and when I was convinced she would never put her daughter’s job in jeopardy again I stopped.
But her hips didn’t. Only now they were grinding into the leather seat of the stool as if she was trying to erase offensive graffiti off the seat of the stool with her vagina.
She spread her legs as wide as she could. A small puddle formed on the cushion beneath her.
A wet, pink, vertical smile bisected her thighs. I scooped up about an ounce of her musky juice as I pressed my hand against her sex.
“Oh, Logan….please…I’ve had it. My bottom is on fire.”
“But nowhere near as hot as this, darlin’.” I said as I then realized that I was so hard I could cut a diamond.
I gave her wet lips a squeeze and a slap to get her attention.
“Not..ooh…there! No! Oooooooh. Damn you, Logan.”
Another ten crisp smacks began to bring even more blood to those plump, swollen lips between her legs.
She began to shake and quiver. The hot, hooded clit seem to peak it’s head out to see what all the commotion was about.

I rolled the hard pebble of arousal between my thumb and forefinger. She gyrated over the stool, arms and legs akimbo. Swimming on air. Finally, she gripped the legs and held on tightly. She bounced the stool off the floor and had herself an earthshaking orgasm. Her face thermometered as red as her cheeks. Ripples coursed through her thighs and her bottom jellied to and fro.
She lay limp over the stool and was panting. I was straining against my pants as I stared at a puckering, yawning, winking tight space between her cheeks. I spread the valley wide and put my finger against the crinkled opening. With little pressure, my knuckles sunk into the hungry tunnel.
“Nggnnnnn,ooooh,Logan….not therrrrrrrrrrrre.
A second finger was introduced as her muscles clenched and the flood between her legs was released once again. She crossed her legs and captured my wrist between them. She was stretched and filled with two long, thick digits. As I moved them back and forth, I unbuttoned my pants and let them slide down to my knees. By the time they hit my ankles, another series of tremors rocked her body.



I stepped back and positioned myself behind her. I eased my coiled, knotted cock between her cheeks and pressed slowly against the small o.
“Oh, Logan, not with that…ooooh, no, it’s too bi… Mmmmmm,deeper…………oh……….plea….whoooo…..yessss...”
Her hot bottom swallowed the entire length in one long gulp. We established a rhythm that was savage. Like two animals in the wild: clawing, gnashing, snarling, biting. I was pistoning my hips deeper and deeper feeling the vise-like grip of her muscles. I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer. I reached around and grabbed her granite clit.
She shook.
I came.
We melted.
The next few minutes ticked by in a seething, sweltering quiet.
Exhales.
One syllable acknowledgements that both our lives had been enhanced and satiated for a hot handful of minutes.
“Oooooh, my bottom is so sore, Logan.” Cynthia said hiking up her tight cotton pants over a tender pair of red cheeks. Her face was flushed. She looked at me with stained-glass eyes. “You’re something, Mister. I’m sorry I acted like a spoiled brat but thank you.”
I tucked my shirt in and accepted her appreciation with a satisfied smile. “Don’t apologize to me. Tell Nicole.”
She took a handful of tush and squeezed.
“Oh, Logan, I’d never tell her about this. Please don’t say anything. Really. Please.”
“Your secrets good with me.”
“Thank, Logan. I need to use the ladies room.”
I motioned toward the back and watched those perfect cheeks sway roll under the tight fabric.
I was rewinding this surreal event when there was a knock on the back door. I walked past the back bar and swung open the door.
It was Nicole.
“Hey, Logan.” She squeaked as she looked down at the floor as if she was hoping it would open and drop her out of the situation.
“Hey, Nikki. Come on in.”
The punctually-challenged waitress walked quickly into the club.
“Before you say anything, darlin’, I want you to know I’ve thought about last night and I decided to let it go.”
Nikki’s eyes grew to the size of a hubcap. “Really? Gosh, Logan, that’s great. I promise I’ll never be late again.”
“I understand. But if you’re ever late again, it’s on the street with you. Got it?”
Nikki squared up and saluted me: “Got it.”
The door to the ladies room opened and Cynthia walked slowly toward Nicole.





“Hey there. What are you doing here?” Nicole asked the lady.
“Well, you said you were going to stop by and I thought I’d catch you. I got here a little early.” She said with a smile.
“I hope Logan was a gentleman. Did he entertain you while you were waiting for me?” Nicole asked.
The woman unconsciously put her hand to her bottom and nodded. “Oh, yeah. He entertained me quite well.”
I chuckled and said: “I’m glad you enjoyed my hospitality.”
“Well, we should get going. I’ll see you tonight, Logan. Nice and early.” Nicole said giving me a hug.
“Good girl.”
Cynthia strolled up to me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Logan. I’ll be good. I promise.” She whispered in my ear.
“Oh, I know you will, darlin’.”

I walked back to my office and saw the green mountain of money defining the landscape of my desk. What a day.
As I watched the two women walk to their cars, the phone rang.
It was, Al Beverati, my club manager.
“Hey, Logan, did you have your talk with Nicole?” he asked.
“Christ, you must be a psychic, she just left.” I said as I saw Nicole drive away and watched Cynthia gently lower hers beautiful buns onto the driver’s seat.
“I guess it got pretty emotional, huh?” he asked.
“I’ve got to be honest with you, Al. Her mother stopped by and explained everything and after all was said and done I decided to give Nikki another chance.” I announced proudly.
“You’re kidding me?” he questioned.
“No. Sometimes you have to get to the seat of the problem to get a clearer view of the situation.” I said as if I just discovered the cure for herpes.
“And you say, Nikki’s mother came by and…sorted things out.”
“Yeah, what are you a parrot? I’m not going to draw you a picture, Al. But you know the drill.”
A gentleman doesn’t spank and tell.
“Logan, here’s some late breaking news: Nicole’s mother died when Nikki was nine years old.”
I could see the donkey ears appearing on my head as I said: “Well, if it wasn’t her mother then who…”
“Yeah, exactly. So, are you going to talk to Nicole when she gets in tonight?”
“Talk? Yeah. I guess that’s one way you could put it. I’m sure I”ll figure it out. I’ll see you tonight.”
I hung up the phone and almost dislocated my shoulder trying to pat myself on the back. You see,
I didn’t have the heart to tell Al that Nicole had told me that her roommate had skipped last month’s rent leaving Nicole holding the bag. Nicole was rightly pissed but didn’t know how to get even with her roommate. I, being the avuncular boss and confidante, gave her a plan that would certainly give Nicole a little satisfaction.
Nicole knew her roommate was a horny woman who would do anything to help Nicole save her job. After all, Nicole brought in the bulk of the money. It was Cynthia who offered to be the intermediary and solve the problem with her hot body and hungry mouth. She was so generous that she made up the story. Simple concept: she’ll confess, seduce Logan, Nicole keeps her job. Ah…..no.
That poor delusional lady. She got a bit more than she bargained for.
And the funny thing is she never figured it out. As a matter of fact, she came back three times in the next six months to help Nicole keep her job.
Damn, I love my life.