A bossy female manager faces a backlash

By Richard Grant

Francesca stormed into the warehouse and started screaming at the despatch team.

“What is this I hear about you refusing to make boxes for the pharmacy staff?”

As the longest serving member, I defended our small team.

“We are busy packing, Francesca,” I explained. “We can’t do both jobs at the same time, can we?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Francesca shouted. “Get those boxes made now!”

I looked at Francesca. She was one of those annoying managers that every company has, the one who always acts like they own the company, where in reality they are just some spoilt kid who, for some bizarre reason, got promoted faster than they should have been and now uses their position to lord it over everyone.

I spoke calmly. “Francesca, can I have a quiet word please?”

She nodded as I walked over to her and put my mouth close to her ear.

“Francesca, do you want me to put you across my knee and give you a good hiding in front of everybody?”

“S-s-sorry?” she asked. “What did you just say?”

I quietly repeated my question so she could be in no doubt about what I was threatening to do.

“Do you want me to take you to that chair over there, put you across my knee and smack your bottom in front of everyone like some naughty child, or are you going to calm down and start behaving like an adult?”

Francesca’s face went bright red. Turning on her heels, she stormed back out the way she had come in. About ten minutes later, a team leader came to the warehouse to tell me Francesca wanted to see me in her office.

I went up to Francesca’s office to find her sitting behind her desk with a very angry look on her face.

“What the hell do you think you were doing threatening me in front of everyone like that? We’re not in the middle ages anymore. You can’t threaten to spank female staff, especially female managers. That’s sexual harassment, or are you such a neanderthal that you don’t know that?”

Looking her straight in the eyes, I said calmly, “Just keep this up, Francesca, please.”

“Is that another threat?” She shouted. “OK, I’m not having this. Wait until Human Resources Department hears about this.”

Standing up, she walked around her desk to move past me and out the office door, presumably on her way to go see the HR manager. I grabbed hold of her arm as she walked past.

“You’re what Francesca? Early 20s? I’m 50, yet you talk to me like I’m a piece of dirt. I think it’s time you got treated like the annoying child that you are.”

Spotting a large armless chair in front of her desk, I started to march her towards it.

“Get off of me!” she shouted angrily, trying to pull her arm free.

Francesca, being an office manager, didn’t dress like the warehouse girls do. They generally wear jeans, cargo trousers or leggings, but Francesca wore proper office attire and today was wearing a white blouse and a tight, knee-length, grey pencil skirt.

“I told you what I would do if you didn’t calm down and you haven’t listened, have you Francesca?”

Immediately realising what I was hinting at, she started to resist, digging her heels into the carpet and forcing me to change my grip on her.

“Don’t even think about it!” she spat.

Putting my right arm around her waist, I began to half drag, half carry her towards the chair.

“This is what you’ve earned yourself!” I said, relishing the thought of what I was about to do.

She started to struggle, knowing full well what was going to happen if I got her to the chair, but I was far too strong for her and 30 seconds or so later, with a cry of surprise, she found herself face down across my knee.

Francesca continued to fight of course, her arms flailing and her legs and feet kicking. However, thanks to her choice of clothing, her tight skirt began to work in my favour, restricting the movement of her legs. I placed my right hand on her bottom as if to say, “Enough is enough,” and, recognising that unspoken universal symbol between a man and a woman that tells them when they have gone too far, she immediately stopped struggling.

Feeling the weight of my hand resting on her backside had clearly brought her predicament into sharp focus, because now the tone of her voice changed.

“Richard,” she said. “You don’t need to do this. There is always room for negotiation. Just let me up and we’ll talk.”

Looking down at Francesca’s body, firmly held bent over my knee, her skirt tightly gathered around her bottom showing the distinct outline of her panties beneath, I knew she had to be punished and I was the guy who had to do it. With immense satisfaction on my part, I began gently running my hand over her rear end, smoothing out any creases I could find in her skirt and underwear.

“You had your chance, Francesca, and now it’s time to pay the piper,” I replied, raising my hand high above my head.

Francesca, realising she wasn’t going to be able to talk her way out of this situation, now reverted back to a threatening posture again.

“Don’t you dare spank me, Richard Grant. Let me up right now!”

Smack. My hand landed heavily right in the centre of her bottom, catching both cheeks with equal measure.

“Ouch!” she cried out. “Stop!”

Raising my hand again, I began a vicious flurry of solid smacks to the centre of her backside.

Francesca cried out, “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” and her bottom began wriggling from side to side trying to evade the blows, but I held her tightly in place.

“Someone should have done this a long time ago!” I stated, landing another half dozen smacks.

Francesca’s hands shot out trying to find something, anything, to grab hold of so she could pull herself off of my knee, but there was nothing close by for her to reach.

“Stop struggling, you silly girl!” I said. “Or you’ll get it even harder!”

But no, she wasn’t going to listen, and her kicking started up again. True to my word, I simply increased the strength of my spanks. She gasped in shock and started to cry, her hands shooting back to protect her undefended backside.

“I warned you!” I said calmly. “I warned you multiple times what I would do if you didn’t calm down, and you paid no attention, so now you’re going to be one very sorry little girl!”

“Let me go! she ordered, but I wasn’t anywhere near finished with her yet.

Grabbing her hands, I pinned them to the small of her back, and with the palm of my hand began peppering the seat of her skirt with very hard, very fast smacks. Francesca was in absolute tears.

“Please stop!” she begged, but I wasn’t going to stop and anyway I had noticed by now that the more she was kicking, the higher the hem of her tight-fitting skirt was climbing up her legs.

She was kicking and crying, and before long I could start to see the bottom of a pair of full-seated black satin panties, along with a nice red glow emanating out from them and down onto the tops of her legs. I’m no monster and so decided to give her fair warning.

“Francesca, if you don’t stop kicking then soon you won’t have a skirt on to protect you at all!”

She didn’t take the warning. In fact, she saw it as a threat that I was planning to raise her skirt myself, not realising it was already doing that job perfectly well on its own.

She started shouting again, “No! No! Don’t you dare! I’ll report you to the police!”

This pathetic threat of hers annoyed me even more, and then suddenly there they were, her sit spots staring right at me, begging for a good, hard, targeted spanking.

‘Aw, what the hell,’ I thought to myself. ‘Her skirt’s as good as gone now anyway.’

Grabbing the hem, I pulled the entire thing up to her waist.

“Now you’re really going to get it, young lady!” I announced.

Aiming for her sit spots, I landed hard spank after hard spank on each one.

Her kicking intensified and I responded by tightening the grip of my left arm around her waist to ensure she wasn’t going anywhere. I then shifted her body slightly so she was now bent over just my left knee and locked her struggling legs out of the way with my right leg. There she was, stretched across my knee, hands pinned to her back, legs locked away and her black satin panty covered backside completely defenceless.

Looking at her desk, I noticed a large wooden hairbrush laying within arm’s reach and picked it up. I could tell just from the weight that it was solidly built so I gently tapped it against her red, sore bottom.

“This is your last chance, Francesca. Are you going to calm down or do I need to employ this?”


Feeling the hairbrush tapping her bottom, Francesca freaked out and began to desperately try and wriggle herself free.


“No! Please! Don’t!”

Maybe her mother or father had used a hairbrush on her when she was younger, but I was far beyond caring about stuff like that. By now, all I wanted to do was put this brat in her place, so high into the air the brush went. It came down with such force that even I was surprised. Francesca started howling and then as one, two, three dozen strokes hit different parts of her backside the howls subsided until she was bawling her eyes out like a baby. Taking aim at the exact centre of her bottom I landed the final paddling of 25 hard strokes across both her cheeks at the same time. Using the last of her strength, she tried one final time to desperately raise herself off of my knee but gave up and her cries turned into a quiet sobbing as her will finally broke.

I landed another dozen but the fight was gone, beaten out of her and I hadn’t even needed to lower her knickers.

Pulling her skirt back down into place, I released the poor girl, who I now felt quite sorry for, stood her up and sat her on my knee. She winced, her bum clearly very tender even through her clothing. Putting my arms around her I gave her what I could only describe as a fatherly like hug, until she eventually stopped crying.

“I’m sorry I did that, Francesca, but I did give you fair warning and you refused to behave. You know you deserved that spanking, right?”

“Yes, I know,” she replied tearfully. “I was a silly, naughty girl and you were right to punish me. You have my word I will do better from now on and I’ll show your team the respect I should have shown you all from the beginning.”

“Good girl,” I replied, patting her bottom and standing her up.

Francesca moved round her desk wincing again as she sat in her chair, and I left her office.

After that, Francesca and I got on like a house on fire. She was a changed person. She often came down to the warehouse, laughed and joked with the guys and girls, and if any stupid orders came down from on high she was always the first manager to fight our corner.

Once, one afternoon when she caught me sitting alone in the canteen, she even came over and sat on my knee for a couple of minutes, enquiring if I was happy with her behaviour lately. Yes, that good hiding I had given her certainly changed everything.

To date, I haven’t had to spank her a second time. I’ve jokingly threatened her a few times when I’ve thought she was being a bit stroppy, but always her face immediately goes bright red, her hands subconsciously move to shield her bottom, and within seconds she is the nicest girl in the building once again.

The End

© Richard Grant 2023