Ricardo’s

Eating out at one of the best restaurants in town can get you more than a good meal.

By Lorna Brand

Ricardo’s was a very busy Italian Restaurant in the main city centre. It was always packed out especially, around the weekend. Booking ahead was essential if you wanted a table but even then if you turned up in anything less than smart attire you would not be seated. Ricardo’s was a third generation Italian restaurant owned by a very proud, handsome head chef, Marcus. Like his father and grandfather before, he would not suffer fools gladly and had a firm but fair way about him. He treated his staff like family, as most of them were, but as such he expected them to conduct themselves in a manner fitting for his restaurant’s reputation, or they would be swiftly dealt with in the same way staff had for generations.

This was a very busy night when Samantha and her boyfriend, Tim, came in for their date night. As they where both in high placed, demanding jobs they often found it hard to make time for each other, but made a point of meeting on a Friday to catch up and sync their diaries for the coming week. Samantha came bursting through the glass doors with gusto; she was still wearing her knee length black skirt, white blouse and blazer jacket she had put on for the office that morning. Barging her way past the waiting line, shaking her wet umbrella, she pushed to the front and into the face of the waiting female maitre D.

“Can I help you, Madame? We do have a line,” said the obviously taken aback young woman.

“No, I have a reservation. That’s my table there.”  Samantha said dismissively as she waved to Tim sitting across the room. She pushed her umbrella into the maitre D’s hand and marched on.

“Hi dear, sorry I am late. I got held up at the office,” she said in a mildly softer tone as she took her seat across the table from the well suited, slender man.

“That’s OK, I have ordered for us so we didn’t have to wait any longer than needed.” Tim commented while pouring out a glass of red wine from the bottle he had already started. That done, he took up his phone again to go over his texts and emails.

Samantha followed suit and immediately took her phone out too. Both of them barely looked up as they tapped away on their phones and passed comment about the line at the door and the amount of people in the restaurant rather loudly.

The waitress brought over their meal shortly after, only to be met by Samantha’s sharp tone.

“What do you call this?” She bellowed out at the top of her voice.

“It’s today’s special; chef’s signature carbonara, Miss. It’s what was ordered.”

“Well, if I wanted cheep pasta I could have stayed at home. Bring me a steak, medium rare. Not blue or burnt.  Now, do you think you can manage that?”

Samantha waved the poor shocked waitress away with her hand as if to dismiss the girl from her company, while Tim smirked at his girlfriend’s comments and only looked up from his phone for a momentary glimpse at the waitress as she left with the condemned dish.

The dumb struck waitress carried the plate through the crowded restaurant in to the kitchen to order the new meal, still visibly shaking.

“What’s the matter little one?” Marcus inquired kindly as the girl came through the kitchen door with tears in her eyes.

All the noise and clatter in the kitchen meant it was hard to hear what the blubbering young girl was saying until he came closer to take the declined meal away.

“Don’t worry, I will take over and serve this one when her steak is ready. The kitchen can cope without me now the main rush is over. Is she the same one that caused such a fuss when she came in? Some bloody customers think they can be as rude as they like just because they have a little money in their pocket. Manners cost nothing, even you know that, don’t you bambino?”

Not giving the young girl a chance to answer properly, he lifted her to her feet and embraced her in his large strong arms before sending her off for a break with a big slice of chocolate cake.

Back at their table, the happy couple were commenting on every aspect of Ricardo’s, from the wooden floor to the décor, as obnoxiously as they liked. Neither of them made eye contact but took just fleeting glances up from their screens to confirm their conversation or to seek out another thing to criticise.

Tim, however, had been shovelling down his meal, not even waiting for his girlfriend’s newly ordered food. He had eaten so fast that by the time Marcus brought out Samantha’s steak Tim was almost finished.

“Your steak, Miss. I hope this will meet with your approval.” Marcus politely removed her napkin from the table and draped it on her lap as he placed her plate in front of her.

Samantha said nothing as she started to tuck in to her steak, not even looking at the striking Italian until he left her side to attend to another customer. Then she stole a glance over her shoulder.

“Samantha dear, I am going to have to shoot off. It can’t be helped, I really need to get back to the office. Please stay and enjoy your meal. Desert should be here shortly.” Tim said, rushing to gather his jacket and giving Samantha a peck on the cheek as he went. “I will make it up to you next time.”

“Oh, Tim, you said that the last time.” A clearly upset Samantha tried to protest, but to no avail as her less than attentive boyfriend left.

For the next half an hour Samantha sat quietly typing away on her phone, only making occasional comments out loud now and then like: “Ridiculous” or: “Terrible,” although it wasn’t obvious what she was complaining about.

Eventually another waitress came over to clear the desert plate and bring the bill. Normally a customer would be asked if they wanted a coffee or the cheese board after desert, but at this point all the staff had been pushed to their limit and just wanted this awful woman to leave.

However, when the waitress returned to the table to collect the money, she found Samantha crawling around the floor before she reached up and started hitting her phone on the table.

“Stupid bloody battery!” Samantha said as she crawled over to search the pockets of her jacket.

“Can I help you, Miss?” The confused waitress asked.

“I seem to have lost my purse, you stupid girl! What else would I be doing on your filthy floor? And my bloody battery is dead so I can’t get hold of my boyfriend.”

As Samantha ranted, Marcus walked over. He was confronted by Samantha’s pert derriere sticking out from under the table, with the white table cloth framing her black skirt stretched tight over her ample bottom.

“What is going on here?” Marcus bellowed loudly in order to draw the other customers’ attention.

“This customer doesn’t seem able to pay her bill.” Replied the slightly amused waitress as loud and sarcastically as she could. “She says that her purse is missing.”

“I am not lying. I HAVE lost my purse. I have plenty of money in there; just help me find it!” Samantha snapped.

“Well Miss, we have had quite a few people try to con us out of a free meal. What about your companion, can you not contact him?” Inquired Marcus.

“No I can’t! My damn phone is out of battery, and his number is in the phone so I don’t need to remember it!” Samantha said with a bite.

“So you have no way of paying, and no way to contact anyone to help? Does that not seem suspicious to you?” Marcus jibed.

“Look, just help me find my purse. It can only be in here because I put it in my pocket on the way in from the door.” A much embarrassed Samantha pleaded.

“OK, what colour was your purse?” Marcus said gleefully, knowing he had an opportunity to bring this obnoxious, self absorbed, pretty lady down a peg or two.

“It’s Pink! It won’t be hard to spot.”

“OK ladies and gentlemen,” Marcus shouted at the top of his voice. “I am sorry to interrupt your evening but could you please have a look around your chairs and tables for a PINK purse as this lady thinks she has lost hers here tonight.”

There was a great deal of shuffling, but within a minute or two the restaurant fell silent.

Marcus turned to a red faced, sullen, Samantha. “It looks like no one has found your very distinctive purse that ‘must be here’. I think you should follow me to my office while we sort this out.”

Samantha followed him through the crowded dinning room to the office while all eyes followed her walk of shame. Still clearly unapologetic for her behaviour, and walking head up shoulders back, she stomped along like she was going to battle.

“Come in and shut the door,” Marcus instructed firmly as he moved across the small room to take his seat behind his imposing desk. Marcus sat facing Samantha in silence as she pinned herself up against the door.

“Your behaviour tonight has been deplorable. You have insulted my business, food and family, and then you don’t even pay for your meal!” Marcus spoke with the authority of a much older man, learned through years of staff management. He was calm and clear but didn’t raise his voice.

“I would have paid if I hadn’t lost my purse,” shouted back Samantha as she realized she had lost control of the situation.

“Have we not searched for your purse? The whole restaurant has searched for your PINK purse and there is no pink purse here, so you can see my predicament. I think you are trying to con me and the only way to solve this is to call the police.” Marcus said in a daunting tone.

“Police? For a meal? I could just go home and get some cash now to pay you. The police seems a little excessive.” Samantha was starting to sound desperate to get out of the situation she had found herself in.

“I am sorry but I can’t let you leave this restaurant and trust that you will come back. After all, that’s what a con artist would say, isn’t it? I will have to call the police and they can escort you home or to the police station to clear this matter up.”

By this point, Samantha was starting to see how serious this could be.

“But I would have to go out, under police guard, into a police car and be taken away like a criminal. What if some one sees me? What if my office finds out?”

Marcus spotted his moment, the moment he had been angling towards.

“I agree. It is quite a tricky situation, isn’t it? This could indeed have long lasting implications for you, young lady. It’s a shame this couldn’t be resolved the same way we resolve other tricky problems here, but unfortunately calling the police is my only option.”

“How would you usually deal with tricky situations here?” A sheepish Samantha asked, hoping she could do some dishes or something; anything so she could escape the deep gaze of this stern, strong, chiselled man.

“Well, if you were one of my girls you would get a liberal dose of my butter paddle over your bare bum, but you’re not one of my girls so it will have to be the police, I am afraid.” He reached slowly towards the telephone, ready to grasp the receiver, alert for Samantha’s reaction.

“No, please! I could be one of your girls for tonight, couldn’t I? I promise I will take whatever punishment you see fit, but don’t call the police.”

Samantha was genuinely distressed at the prospect someone might see her with the police. The earlier bravado had gone as she pleaded with her eyes.

“I don’t know if that would be possible. You see, my girls all have contracts agreeing to such discipline and you don’t.”

“I could sign a letter for you. That would be just like a contract so it is all above board. Please sir, don’t call the police.”

Tears were now slowly trickling down Samantha’s pretty face, softening her whole demeanour. She was becoming desperate for this stranger to discipline her and practically begging with every aspect of her voice. It was a very odd position to be in, and one she had never experienced before.

Marcus was quite jubilant underneath his ice-cool appearance. He firmly believed this woman needed a good spanking from a long time ago and he was finding it hard to keep the satisfaction from his face.

“OK, please don’t cry, Miss. I really want to help you. If I get you a piece of paper, you can write out a letter to myself, Mr Marcus Ricardo, asking that I spank you on your bare bottom with a butter paddle until I am satisfied you have been punished for your behaviour tonight. Then you must sign it with your full name.”

Samantha didn’t stop to think about it. She quickly took a seat opposite this understanding man and immediately started to write out what she had been instructed. Marcus pressed his intercom button and called for the young girl who had served this unruly woman and been reduced her to tears. It didn’t take long for the waitress to appear in the doorway.

“You called for me?” The girl asked.

“Yes, can you please fetch me my butter paddle?”

“The paddle? Really?”

A smile was forming on the face of the young waitress even before she turned to leave. Its location was clearly well-known to her, for it wasn’t more than a minute before she returned. She was so keen to bring the instrument she burst through the office door without knocking.

“Excuse me!” Chastised a surprised Marcus.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” said the contrite young girl as she placed the paddle on the desk next to a wide eyed Samantha.

“Well thank you,” Marcus smiled as he read over his new contract, taking note of his victim’s name. “Samantha, would you like a chaperone to be here while we conclude our business?”

“No! Certainly not! This is humiliating enough.” Samantha blushed.

“OK, you may go then.” Marcus addressed the disappointed waitress.

Silence fell once again as the door was firmly closed. They where alone sitting opposite each other with the paddle between them on the desk. Marcus was clearly making Samantha very uncomfortable and she shifted about in her chair as she awaited the next move.

Still silent, Marcus arose from his chair and tucked it under his desk. He started to remove his white chef’s jacket, keeping a firm gaze on Samantha the whole time. Samantha’s eyes were as wide as could be as Marcus’s tight vest top came into view clinging to his muscled torso displaying his impressive arms. After Marcus had completely removed and folded his jacket, placing it on the filing cabinet behind him, Marcus walked behind Samantha before finally speaking.

“Samantha, please stand and remove your skirt and underwear.”

Marcus kept his eyes fixed firmly on Samantha, letting her know that this was going to be done his way and she was in no position to argue. As Samantha slowly arose from her small wooden chair she was very aware of her bottom and her heart rate beginning to quicken. Marcus removed the chair from behind Samantha placing it to the side of the room.

“Please fold and place your garments on the chair,” Marcus prompted, not looking away for a second.

Samantha slid her hand up under her tight skirt then pulled down her tights and small thong in one go. Carefully stepping out of her high heels, she slipped the tights and underwear off of each foot one at a time before following the instructions and placing them on the chair.

“Can I not just lift my skirt? There is no real reason why I cant keep it on. Please?” Samantha asked in her best mild-mannered tone while shuffling on the spot and fixing her gaze on her pretty painted toes.

“NO SAMANTHA!  That is not what you will do. I have already asked you to remove your skirt. NOW, I am telling you to remove your skirt and place it on the chair. Do what you are told, Samantha!”

Marcus’s commanding instruction jumped Samantha in to action, not knowing why but completely compelled to take instruction from this forceful man. Dropping her skirt to pool around her ankles, she displayed her shapely legs and tight pert bottom as she tried to discreetly retrieve her skirt from the floor by squatting and turning her back on Marcus. Samantha folded her skirt, placed it on the chair and stood waiting to know what to do next.

“Samantha, have you ever been spanked before?” Marcus warmly asked.

Samantha did not answer but shook her bowed head, letting another tear wind its way down her face to drop on the floor.

“OK, Samantha, I will talk you through what is going to happen and what I expect from you. You will bend over my desk as far as you can reach, grip the other side and not move. I will adjust your shirt tails and spank you until I think you have been punished enough, but if you move I will spank you again. Do you understand?”

Marcus picked up the paddle from the desk and gestured for her to take her position.

Quietly sobbing, Samantha draped herself over the desk, recoiling slightly as she felt the cold wood threw her thin blouse pressed hard against her breasts. Surprisingly, the warm restaurant air over her most delicate of areas did not even register. Samantha quivered as Marcus rolled up her shirt, brushing lightly against her soft skin with his warm hands.

Finally Marcus could drink in the sight he had been waiting on; Samantha’s naked bottom high up in the air with her hips pressed tight to the desk, her lower back exposed. Without thinking Marcus ran his hand lightly over the contours of her body as she took a sharp breath.

Marcus rubbed the paddle over Samantha’s bum to take aim.

“Ready, Samantha? Hold tight and keep still. Remember, stay in position until I have finished with your punishment.”

Before Samantha could answer, Marcus pulled back his arm and swung the paddle in to the centre of her bottom. As Marcus watched it get absorbed in to her derriere he gave it a second for the pink hue to begin to appear.

Samantha let out a sharp high-pitched squeal while lifting her hips away from the desk in surprise. Marcus placed his other hand at the small of Samantha’s back, giving her a sense of calm as she relaxes her body back in to position again. Without speaking, Marcus started to rain down strike after strike, keeping one hand on Samantha all the time, not pushing her down but reassuring her.

He covers her bottom methodically, insuring that not one space was left untouched. Samantha never made another move but cried out as the heat built and the pain consumed her senses. At one point, her hair fell from its clasp onto her face. With each hard blow, she tightened her grip as if to remind herself not to move. As the pink hue turned darker and darker with each round off strikes, he finished off with two sharp stinging blows to the crease of her behind.

Marcus allowed Samantha time to compose herself while still gripping the far side of his desk. He slowly unrolled her shirt bringing it back to frame her now red and purple bottom.

“Good girl, Samantha, you can get up now. You did very well. It’s all over now.”

Marcus slowly helped Samantha to her feet, lifting her in to his arms as he praised her.

“Thank you, Sir, I am so sorry for my behaviour.” Samantha sobbed as she buried her head in to his very firm chest.

“I know you are. Now let’s get you dressed and home.” He passed the very different and contrite looking young lady her skirt.

Marcus watched as Samantha carefully brought her clothes up her lovely legs and slowly over her swollen bottom. Samantha finally slipped her high heels back on and made an attempt to fix her hair. Then Marcus walked her back in to the now empty dinning room to collect her jacket from her table and see her to the door.

“Do you need me to call you a taxi, Samantha?”

“No, thank you. I think the walk will do me good. I don’t feel like sitting down just now.” She said with a smile before leaving.

Back in the kitchen, the staff were tiding up and all were buzzing about what had happened.

“Ooh, Marcus, I found this in the back. A customer must have left this.”

It was a pink purse the young waitress handed him.

“Do you think it’s that lady’s that just left?”

“No,” replied Marcus with a grin.” She said her purse was pink. This is clearly cerise, but I will drop it off on my way home tonight.”

The End

© Lorna Brand 2015


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