Kitchen Bums: Manager’s Special
Coburn and Hector have gone to the Casa for lunch, and the result is about as well as you probably expected. As Jackson finishes up with Jacob, Diego arrives with more fresh meat for the BBQ of smacked butts.
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Kitchen Bums: Manager’s Special
Since the army base signed up with the Casa to cater for its officers – and NCOs mess on trial basis, Diego’s productivity-purposeful personnel-posteriors-prodding-plan produced a lot of incremental improvements in kitchen and service, but(t) painstaking progress is progressing pitifully: the trial period risks running out without reaching any restaurant-quality menu, so he needs a plan B -from Brilliancy by Bare-brat-butts-blazing- while much more must be learnt the hard way. It will cut into catering-profits as cruelly as into his clothless catering-curs’ crimson-colouring cones, but(t) he struck a deal with a classy city restaurant to regularly supply proper meals he can proudly serve to the key officers (who even get to request some favourites, keeping them happy enough to extend the trial period) and the recipes, plus some more general cooking tips he can spank soundly, scarlet-shining into his still staggering sub-standard staff’s stripped seats.
The latter part is the magic ingredient in his plan B, as he will turn this time-honoured trouserless-tush-tender-tanning training-technique into salivating spankophile shows, practiced the previous evening, to entertain key officers as deliciously diverting ‘due deserts dessert display’, with Diego and his best-performing staff of the day laying-on attributes agonizing absolutely-abjectly-attire-abandoned adolescent arses of the brat-butt-bared bottom-bumblers, eerily-exposed-endurances exhibiting how well he learned from their CP counsellor contributions, ‘choreographing’ variations, and after their digestive drinks, admiring the nude line-up of crimson-cuts-covered cur-cones, the under-performers are ultimately utterly-upended: past one by one over laps to ascertain their awesomely-awful arse-aches and allow the lofty guests to try out the naughty-knave-nates-nastily-nurturing novelties themselves, even if poor pups’ perfectly-perilously-presented, pre-purple-pained posteriors are to put-up with those pitiless paining-procedures as plus-performance purely for the predatory pounders-pleasure to protract the period.
Though Diego is definitely, depressingly disappointed that this delay digs deep in designed profitability-prospects, dooming him to take a loan, he’s greatly relieved this was offered by the retiring CO’s base veterans society, who agree to collect interest in the form of reunions with VIP programs including copious ‘CP on the side’.
Frankly, frequently feasting with the officers and finding fancy frockless-fanny-flailing-formats for these feast-fellows, he’s developing an officer-gentleman’s taste both for fine cuisine and the fineries of firmly-fanny-flailing flogger-fun, recently reconsidering his resentment to rascal-rearing by rod-rides, now he’s no longer on the receiving but(t) the other end of the rod, having been raised in a dirt-poor, dusty backwater by an immigrant Latino firmly-filial-fannies-flailing farmhand father, who didn’t doubt to put darling Diego dacks-down OTK for peccadilloes and laid on the lash for lewdness or laziness, like his brothers, cousins and other chicos, and made sure he and his puerile peers attended spanking schools, – clubs, – tutors and so on, who all obliged the parental prayer to spare their costly clothes, so they generally got globes-grilled good, grateful it was on the bare or father would flail fully-frockless far fiercer, furnace-fiery for the feeblest frock-ware.
Diego starts to believe he’s living dad’s American dream and even better: not just earning a decent lifestyle and escaping serfdom, but(t) no longer be steadily spankable and even expected to systematically, sirely spank gringo squirts not sired by his family as if their born better. If he pulls it off financially, he shall not only sent a sizeable share of his profits to his family, but(t) seek ways to let them share in his social triumph, as guests witnessing him bossing-around boys-bunches, laying on the lash and pass bare-butt-blistered brat-behinds, better-born included, around for his kinmen to put OTK leisurely, for pointless predatory pleasure, like their landlord’s sadistic son used to do whenever rent was late, which was far too often for their frequently-frockless-flailable fannies’ fiery fate, wickedly-well-whipped way worse and on top of the wheals from whoopings the wailing wantons at least did deserve for do’s or don’ts decreed by their duly-disciplining daddies and their deputized disciplinarians.
Still, if the restaurant reaches reliable respectability and permanent profitability, Diego plans to switch to softy standard-sanctions, sans stripping or spanking, sometimes simple scolding, save for those who volunteer for bonus-paid special ‘VIP package’ clients, yet a devil’s voice already whispers he may by then be turning as Dixie a derriere-discipline-devoted despot like Hector and his hard-handed-hiding humble-hound-handling-happy high-ranking happy-few here … After all, having consulted spankophile sites to inspire creative CP choreography to the Dixie officer cast’s taste, he begins to appreciate the sly subtleties of such saucy stuff as ‘forcing’ fanny-flailable fellows to fetch or fine-tune flogging-implements and paraphernalia, cueing up coyly-cupping to contrast completely-coverless corporal contortions … Confidence even starts to build up, cameras are collecting footage of frockless fanny-flailings, for-now for the officer-clients, but(t) he could later use the material for some commercial fetish-productions, he even adds consent – and copyright clauses to the curs’ contracts, which implies no more recruits under consent-age.