"The Adventure of the Hotel Waitress"
(F/m nc intense)


I was a healthy kid of about 9 when this happened. Me and my family were in Switzerland for work and vacation. No offence to the Swiss, but Switzerland is a place where there was nothing to see and nothing to do apart from staying in super-cool hotels with all comforts. I was not particularly eager to walk the streets and go shopping, or even to visit dull museums with my parents, so I stayed in most of the time.

I'm British, you know, and in our hotel in Geneva there was a waitress who could speak some English. She was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen, she must have been 25, with long blonde hair in a tress and a tight-fitting hotel working suit. She apparently thought I was nice and kind of sympathised with me. I was not a very handsome boy at that age, but some could like my cropped brownish hair and my firm body. I had blue eyes and could speak fluently and was kind of smart, even if shy. She must have liked me, though, because she smiled broadly and patted my head every time she saw me. I must confess I liked her too.

On one particular day I was staying alone at the hotel while mom and dad attended the convention we had come to Geneva for. After enjoying the videogames room and having a huge swim in the pool, I headed back to my room. As I went to the reception desk, with my robes and washcloths over my swimsuit, I saw the girl – whose name was Frida – and she smiled at me.

"Hallo, Haley," she told me. "Three-five-five, right?"

"Yes, please."

"Had a nice swim?"

"Yes, thanks. Water was great. I reckon I will have another go, soon."

"Fine, do as you please."



And so I took my key and went to the elevators. As I entered the cabin I turned back to look at her, but she was gone and some guy was at the desk. I wondered where she was, not knowing I was to find out very soon. Out of the elevator and down the third-floor corridor to my room I went... and there she was, right in front of my door, her arms folded and a stern-looking expression on her face.

"Hi," I said timidly. "What is...?"

"Now, boy, don't think we serve you every time, right?" said Frida in her own personal English.

I didn't quite understand what she meant, until she pointed at the corridor behind me and I turned around. Scattered on the carpet were my wet footprints, and I realised I had been walking bare feet since I left the pool. There was moquette everywhere in the hotel and so I had thought slippers were not needed; obviously I did not think I would leave wet marks all around. It was no big deal, though, but her stern face told me just the contrary.

"Sorry, I hadn't..."

"You don't mind, do you? You are not respect, young boy. You are nice and you think that you can do all things you want? That's wrong, not here!"

I suddenly felt something was wrong. I had been not minding about my actions, that was true, but I was sure it was just water and it would dry off very soon. I told the waitress this.

"Just water?" she said. She was very beautiful, I noticed, even with that severe face. "There is chlorine in the pool, you know? Now we will have to clean all the carpets that you have walked!"

If I was feeling bad, apparently it was not bad enough for her. I was feeling something agitating in my stomach, like butterflies dancing around, and I also started to understand I might be in trouble after all. I just hoped there was a way to solve this problem – even if it was a stupid one and would not really matter – without letting my parents know.

"I tell to your parents," said Frida.

"No!" I snapped. "Please, don't! They will spank me!" I knew this was not actually true. Mom and dad, and dad most of all, had spanked me a lot of times in the past, but they would not punish me harshly for such a thing. Maybe I would get some corner-time or even just a grounding – which was a good thing in Geneva! – but spanking... that'd never happen. I told Frida they would, anyhow, hoping I would break her heart with sweet smiles and puffy eyes so she would change her mind.

But she would have none of this. And, as I soon found out, she had more in mind.

"Not only I tell to your parents," she said. "But I will punish you too. They will spank you because you are disobedient, but I will spank you because you ruined the carpet."

And with that she took the key to my room, which was dangling from my hand, and unlocked the door. She slammed it open and ushered me inside, then closed it behind us. Before I knew what was going on I found myself locked in my own single room with this beautiful girl... and all she wanted to do was spank me.

It dawned on me I was really in for it now, and that there was no apparent way out. I could scream if I wanted to, I could kick her and rush to the door and look for help. I could actually do a lot of different things to escape a painful spanking for this girl I liked so much, but I did not do any of those things. I just stood still with a bewildered look on my face, until she reached for my arm and grabbed it.

I was about to react and slap her hand away, but thought better of it. I was motionless and could not even breathe. Everything was whirling so fast around me that my mind caught on the events long after they had taken place. I understood she had grabbed my arm when she was saying: "You are a bad boy and you deserve a spanking"; I understood her words when she had slapped my face; I felt her slap when she was sitting on my bed and pulling me to her.

Suddenly everything seemed to spin slower and slower, until I finally saw things happen in real time. I am not sure whether it is a good thing or not, because I was about to witness my very first spanking from someone apart from mom, dad, my uncles and grandparents. And older cousins. And school teachers. And classmates I played spanking-games with. J

"I will spank you a lot, Haley!" Frida said as she undid the sponge belt that fastened my robes around my waist. Then she opened the robes and slipped them off me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room with just my skimpy swimsuit on. Back in those days – it's about ten years ago – most little kids wore just slips and not boxers, and I was no exception. I had dark blue ones that day, and they were still wet from the pool. I was all wet, actually. I felt tremendously embarrassed. I wanted to go away, to flee, to be somewhere else; but at the same time I wanted her to continue, to spank me raw and beat me until I was crying. I can't quite explain that, but that is what I felt. I knew she was spanking me for something I had not really done, and it was sort of fine by me.

All my thoughts stopped as she bent me over her legs. I found myself face-down on her lap, staring at the carpet with my wet footprints, as if they were there to remind me why I was being punished. Frida adjusted my body so that my bottom was upturned over her left thigh. Useless to say, I could feel her soft, milky-white skin under my own thighs and stomach, and that really drove through my mind like an arrow. I wanted to get away, but once again I did not want to. Not that I really had a chance, though...


She delivered a tremendous blow on the centre of my backside. I yelped and cocked up my head, but she pinned me down firmly with her left hand on my back.


"Oooww..." I moaned. That was even harder than the first one, and had hit the lower portion of my bottom, where legs start.



They fell one by one, hit by hit, on my poor upturned, totally defenceless rump. I felt the heat and the pain built up under my skin, and they were even worse than always since I was all wet with water.


After fifteen whacks or so she stopped. I had started to sob by then; not still cry, but some sobs and some first tears were already leaving me. In my infinite naive ness I thought she was through with me, until I learned she had only just begun when she inserted her fingers in the waistband of my swimsuit.

"No... please..."

"Be quiet, Haley. These are coming down!"

And as she said so she peeled down my slips. Past my knees, past my feet, and off. She gathered them from the ground and squeezed them right over my bottom. I felt drops of water wetting my already wet backside, and then she spread them around massaging my buttocks with her open hand. I think I protested some way, but I don't really remember: I was focused on the intense sting in my bottom and the touch of her hand was sending me astray. I knew that this would only intensify the pain from now on, since my skin was even wetter than before, but somehow I wish she would never stop her massage. Eventually she did, and threw my swimsuit down on the carpet right in front of me, turned inside-out, so I could see it.

My eyes were transfixed on the satin tissue and never quite left it, until a burning sting distracted me and brought me back to my senses...


It was not her hand who struck me, this time. I was sure it was something heavier, drier... and thicker.


She gave me two more and I wailed in protest, really starting to cry now. I then realised she was spanking me hard...


... right with the one thing that would probably avoid me this spanking.

"If you feel... SPANK!!... you don't need slippers... SLAP!!... then maybe... WHACK!!... I can use them better!"


And so she kept on wailing away on my bottom with my plastic-made pool slipper, one of those slippers I had not put on when going out of the pool, those that I "did not need because there was moquette everywhere".


I was crying in eager by the fifteenth slap with the slipper, and then I lost count. She must have given me fifty or so, because the sting my bottom was tremendous, as it rarely had been before. Frida was spanking me full force, making sure I was learning my lesson and would never ever forget this discipline session. That's for sure, I tell you!

But eventually she stopped. I was a mess. I was crying my heart out, a little pool of teardrops on the carpet beneath me, right aside one wet footprint of my foot. My ass was on fire and my arms were pinned firmly behind me back: Frida must have done it during the spanking, and with all my crying and kicking I probably had not even noticed.

Slowly I calmed down and my crying subsided a little. Frida left me hanging over her lap for some time, while caressing my back and my well-punished bottom with both hands. Her soft, tender touch made me feel a little better. Then she let me get up, and I was a 9-year-old boy standing naked in the middle of a hotel room in Geneva in front of a very beautiful blonde Swiss waitress who had just spanked me for good.

"Haley," she said, smiling. "You are a good boy."

"I'm sorry..." I said through my tears. "I didn't mean, really..."

"You learn your lesson? Or you need more spanking?" and with that she showed me the sponge belt taken from my robes.

"No! No, please. I've learnt my lesson."

"Good boy!" she said. "But if you do it again, I will whip you with the belt. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."


She went out and left me in the room, stark naked and with a red bottom. Soon after that spanking I found out she was telling the truth all the time: she told my parents what had happened and told them she had spanked me for it. My mother thought she had been good and I had been punished enough, but father did not agree. He too thought Frida had done the right thing, but he seemed to think she had let me off to easily.

He had already his leather thick belt in his hand, and I was already bent over a chair when mom talked him into not spanking me. They discussed it a few minutes – with me still naked and bent over – then dad agreed not to give me a thorough punishment. He still lashed my robes' sponge belt five times into my naked butt, which renewed the sting and had me howling, and then let me go.

"Next time you won't be so lucky," he said.

"Thank you, sir," I said as I had been instructed. "Thank you for spanking me, sir."

I had thought they would never spank me for such a light offence. I had thought Frida would never spank me at all, for this offence or any other. It looks like I was wrong big time.




The author is completely against the practice of non-consensual spanking applied to children and teenagers as a form of discipline: it is dangerous, violating and potentially abusive. All my stories are archived at http://www.geocities.com/haley_brimley/