Manager Riley sets out to identify and confront the customers who have been passing off ‘hell money’ when ordering delivery. But soon on a cross, he is enduring a hellish experience of his own!
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As astute as abject Alex’s awrsome arse aching awfully ablaze after another, actually absurdly-abusive, awesomely-awful attribute-to-‘adolescent ass’-anal-area-applying-agony, he avidly, ad-rem and amazingly-astutely answers heathenishly-hard-hitting hell-hound hiding-happy Hector’s crucial, clever-kid-corporate-career-clearing question how to oust ridiculous Riley as miss-matched manager without paying his ‘golden parachute’ : the cursed, crushingly-costly contract clause won’t apply if foolish French foppishly files his resignation, so the miserable manager must be motivated, maybe marvellously-matched by much more male mounds misery then the meek mutts mindlessly meet manifold from him and hornily-hotties-hiding-happy Hector. Having bitched about clients’ counterfeit ‘hell money’ hundredfold and hellishly-harshly hided humble-hounds hinies for it without any progress or prospect, he is ordered by Hector to make it his sole absolute and personal priority, radically removing him from restaurant running till the delivery mystery nightmare is solved and cured.
So Alex masterminds an elaborate trap, with several steadily-spankable stumbler-squirts eagerly joining in to take spankings from him for not spotting counterfeit sums all from a single address, where Riley now heads, only to find his protestations lead him straight to unceremonious stripping-starkers to be saltire-tied and flogged by masked males in turn, enjoying to ‘return the flawed-fellow-fanny-flogging-favour’ on Riley’s rapidly-raw-reddening reject-rear almost as much as the prospect to see the attributes of atrocious arse-agony happily handed from his hated hands to hailed hero Alex, whom they trust to be far fairer and an efficient educator, employing eerily-exposed excruciation for their own good or at least the restaurant’s, hence their jobs, which for them also means their arses awaits at home way-worse woodshed-treatments if they ever get fired, which they feared as fucking fool French was running it straight to down-sizing, bankruptcy or foreclosure by the bank. Alex even sends French a fake job offer, so he hastily resigns and clears the way for the MBA replace plain incompetence with a masterly business plan, which will turn the place around to perplexing profit, permitting Hector to go way easier on his stupid skeleton staff’s spankable seats, only flogging those who perform worst, and pay Alex’s frat for pledges to put to work and OTK to mutual satisfaction.