Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Red Bottoms Espresso - Hannah's Beginning - Chapter 5

She opened the door to the bathroom and walked out into the office.  He was sitting at his desk typing on his keyboard; he stopped and turned toward her as she walked out.  "Nice work!"  He stood up and crossed the room.  "You look great, really!"  She felt herself blush as this impossibly tall man approached her, smiling.  She felt his strength radiating from him like a heat wave through the thin material of her uniform as he stopped in front of her.  She naturally stood taller, her small breasts pushed up prettily in the padded red bra that matched the micro skirt at her waist.  She had been confused trying to figure out which way the skirt was supposed to face when she was dressing.  It was so short!  She finally found the small red tag in the waistband, but even when the skirt was facing the right way it wasn’t nearly long enough to cover her panties, or she had to pull it way too low on her hips.  Standing in front of him now, she knew he could see her panties at the apex of her legs.  He had picked out the sheer nylon pair, and they were slippery and cold when she pulled them on as she sat on the tile of the bathroom floor.  

She thrilled when he took her hand and led her over to his desk.  He positioned her so that she was standing directly in front of his desk, and then he walked around her and sat down in his office chair behind it.  He tapped his keyboard, and she noticed that he had his business license framed behind him, and she could see the reflection of his monitor in the glass.  She saw what looked like video feeds flash by on the screen, and then the screen went dark and he was looking at her again.  "If I'm here in the office when you finish your shift, I want you to come here to my desk again, and stand right there," he said.

"Yes, Daddy," she said.  She had been really surprised when she had seen herself in the full length mirror as she had walked to his desk.  Her cheeks were flushed from her warm shower, and she had chosen cherry red lipstick, with light mascara and eyeliner.   Her hair looked very neat in its ballet bun, and she could see her high cheekbones with her hair pulled away from her face.  She hadn't cared how she looked since the 7th grade, when Agatha Letcher had told her she would always be an ugly, skinny, smelly rat from the projects.  Even at the age of 18, she had never been invited to a prom, or had a nice date with a boy.  She had lived like a rat too, safely burrowed away wherever she was living, doing the very least she could get away with and still survive.

"I will ask you how your shift went," he said, interrupting her thoughts.  "After we finish that little chat, I will dismiss you by saying, 'You are dismissed.'  You will take your skirt between your thumb and first finger," he said, pantomiming for her with his right hand, his other fingers comically splayed out as if he were holding a very fancy tea cup.  "Hold your skirt up and out, and curtsey."  "I know that you are 18 years old, but I want you to curtsey to me like when you were in ballet class as a little girl.  If that applies."  He winked at her.  She held up her skirt experimentally.  "That's it, hold it up so it makes a smile in front of you, one foot behind the other, and now curtsey by bending your knees."  She curtsied.  Finish by saying, 'Thank you Daddy,'" he said.

"Thank you Daddy," she echoed.

"And drop you skirt," he said.  She did, and he smiled.  She smiled back nervously.  "Typically, you are now free to go and change back into your street clothes.  Today, we'll continue with your second lesson."  He chuckled as her face fell.  "Don't worry, this will be an easy lesson," he assured her.  "More for future reference."  He stood up and came around the desk to stand at her left side.  "Sometimes, I'll have you bend over my desk here to give you a spanking.  I'll freshen up the one I gave you earlier, and then we'll go in the other room.  He put his hand on her back. 

Hannah balked.  He could not possibly be giving her another spanking, could he?  The skin on her ass was literally still red from the assault he had just visited on it before her shower.  She didn’t think she could stand another one, but before she could protest, he took her in hand.

"Bend over and put your hands on the desk," he said.  She bent over as his hand gently pushed her down until her hands were on the cool smooth surface of his wooden desk. .  "Spread your feet and point your toes inward,” he said.  She moved her feet apart so that they were wider than her shoulders, and then assumed a pigeon-toed stance.  She still had her panties on, but she grimaced as she realized she was exposing herself to him.  He reached down behind her and flipped her skirt up so that her backside was exposed in her white nylon panties.  Her bottom was still pink from her earlier spanking, easily visible through her underwear.  With his left hand still on her back, he pulled back his right and spanked her lightly.  Her small globes danced as he used a sweeping motion up and down her bottom, quickly returning the shade of red she had sported earlier.  

"Ah, ah, ooh," she cooed, in time with the swats falling on her round cheeks.  With her legs spread, some of the swats were falling on her exposed bottom hole.  

"When I'm spanking you like this," he lectured, "You must keep your hands firmly on the desk."  He paused, and then spanked her a little harder on the left side and then the right, for emphasis.  "Do you understand me?"

"Ow, yes, Daddy!" This spanking was not nearly as hard as the one earlier when she had been suspended over his lap on her fingers and toes, but it was quickly become just as painful on her sensitized skin.  She stared at his desk between her hands as each contact pushed her head forward a couple of inches, and then she naturally pushed back until she was in a rocking motion, back and forth at the desk.   He turned his hand so that it covered her left buttock from the top to just above her left thigh, and spanked her with his hand cupped so that fit the curve just perfectly.  

"I'm keeping my hand on your back to remind you this time," he said.  He swung his cupped hand hard against the diamond opening below her pussy, and the swat made a deeper sound then the "crack" of his palm squarely on her seat.


"Aiyyy, oooo!"  She was dimly aware that each time he spanked her, his thumb or his little finger occupied the groove between her buttocks, which were slightly spread by her open stance.  Each time, it made hard contact with the little pink flower of her bottom through the translucent fabric.  He stopped and she danced a little, and swaying her hips back and forth.

"That's a good girl," he said.  He rubbed her back a little longer and then released her.  "OK to stand up now," he said.  She slowly righted herself and steadied herself on his offered arm.  "That's it," he said.  "Your bottom is nice and red again.  This is how it should look when you start your shift, on days you have a spanking.  This puts the “red” in Red Bottoms Espresso,” he said.    Let's go next door and continue your training."  He held the door for her and then followed her into the warehouse.

"I want you think of this as a dress rehearsal," he said, as they stood in the first coffee stand he had built inside the warehouse.  He switched on the espresso machine and it hummed to life.  She stared at the chrome on the front of the machine.  It was very clean, although she could tell that it had been used recently.  The coffee grinder had fresh beans in its hopper, and she could smell fresh grounds.   She felt him looking down at her, waiting for her response.  She didn't want to meet his eyes.   Her bottom was very sore after her two spankings, and he was standing very close to her - a very real reminder of how hard his hand had smacked her rear.  He had stopped talking, though.  She looked up into his face.

"I know this is new for you," he said gently.  "And, I know you can't see how fun this is going to be yet.  But it IS going to be fun, and you are a beautiful, sexy girl.  You are going to make a ton of money, making guys feel GREAT in the process."  She tried a watery smile as a tear rolled down her cheek.  "It's OK."  He gently dabbed her tear away with a tissue he pulled from a box under the counter, and handed it to her.  She blew her nose, which was very loud in the small space.  Suddenly, she was six years old, standing in front of Miss Schuster in her tree costume for the Spring assembly her Kindergarten  class had put on, trying to hold still as her teacher picked and pulled at her branches.  She laughed.

"Sorry!"  She wiped her nose.

"It's fine,"  he said.  Please don't apologize for being human."  He opened the drawer under the counter directly under the machine and pulled out a hand towel.  "Ready to learn how to make a perfect cup?"  He placed the towel on the steel counter to the right of the machine, and then turned to look at her expectantly.  

"Yes, Daddy," she said.  She stood awkwardly next to him in the small space.  She imagined she smelled his scent, mixed like an exotic spice with the strong fragrance of freshly ground beans.

"Good."  He smiled down at her kindly,  "Today, we're just going to learn about the different parts of this machine, and how they work."  He opened a cupboard over the work station and pulled out steel pitcher.  "I expect you to know the technical details of making coffee, so if a customer asks for a cup that is 160 degrees, you can deliver."  He pulled a metal thermometer out of the drawer, and put it in the milk pitcher with a clank.   "More importantly," he continued, producing another hand towel, “Is getting the drink exactly the same every time.”  He handed her what looked like a metal filter on a handle.  “You’ve seen these, right?”

“Yep!  She nodded, familiar with seeing them at every coffee place she’d been too.

“It’s called a ‘portafilter.’  He handed it to her.  He nodded toward the silver machine with a large plastic container of coffee beans inverted over it, on the counter between the espresso machine and the sink.  “This is our burr grinder.  Every good cup of coffee starts with a fresh grind.”  He demonstrated how to grind coffee, and how to tamp it down hard enough to draw correctly when hot water was applied.  “This is called the “group,” he said, inserting the portafilter into the metal receptacle on the machine.  “You give it a little twist after lining it up, and it’s locked.”  He took it out.  “You try.”  She took the portafilter and experimentally lined it up on the machine as he had, and then gingerly turned the handle until it stopped.

“Oh!”  She laughed.  “Is that it?”

“That’s it!” He grinned at her.  He put two of the small porcelain espresso cups beneath the portafilter.  “Now push that red button,” he said.  She pushed the button, and the machine came to life.  Fresh espresso drained through the metal filter and into the espresso cups.  "Timing is everything for drawing shots," he said.  "This machine is semi-automated, so it runs water through the grounds for exactly 23 seconds."  The rich espresso poured smoothly into the cups, and then dripped to a stop as the machine stopped forcing water through the filter.  "Wait for the espresso to stop running," he said, holding up a finger, "And then we pour."  He expertly poured the shots into the waiting paper cup, which was a typical, white 12 oz hot beverage cup with a simple logo: an artful drawing of a brown paddle running down the cup, with “Red Bottoms Espresso” written in cursive, cherry red, as if engraved into the paddle.

She watched the muscles in his forearm flex as he turned the shots over into the cup.  "At the same time the machine is pulling the shots, you are steaming milk, here."  He showed her how to fill the pitcher with 2% milk from the refrigerator under the counter and steam it, using the thermometer to get the temperature exactly right.  "The position of the head of the nozzle in the pitcher can help produce foam.”  He demonstrated how holding the pitcher lower tended to put more foam on top of the milk. When it was exactly 160 degrees, he poured it over the coffee, leaving a heart-shaped dollop of foam on top.

“Many of the coffee beverages you’ll make will have whipped cream on top, requiring our tall lid,” he said, pointing to the neat stack of lids next to the grinder.  He picked a white lid from the stack of “Solo” lids standing next to the clear plastic lids.  “But, this one just takes a flat lid.”  He handed the cup to her.  “Give it a try,” he said.  He winked at her.  She smiled and took the cup, and put it to her lips.

“Mmm, I like that!”  She looked a little surprised.  

“Excellent!”  He took the small towel he had gotten out earlier and wiped off the nozzle.  “After every cup you make, you need to clean the steamer and flush the group,” he said, twisting the steamer knob and blowing a shot of steam through it.  He cycled water through the group, knocked the grounds out of the portafilter into the metal grounds bin embedded in the counter with a metallic “clunk” and cleaned it out as well.  He returned the portafilter to its shelf, and then turned to her as she stood drinking her coffee.

“That,” he said dramatically, “is a 12-oz double latte that you are drinking.  It’s one of our simplest coffees to make, but also uses espresso and milk so it’s good practice.”  He leaned carefully against the edge of the counter.  I want you to make 10 of these now, to practice.  Each one you make should taste exactly like the one you’re drinking right now.”

“OK,” she said.  Hannah felt doubtful, although the process looked easy enough.  She realized that making espresso was harder than it looked.

“Before you get started, though, let me ask you a question.”  She nodded.  “When you go out for fast food and you use the drive-through, which experience do you like better, king or arches?”    

“Arches,” she said, immediately.

“Yup,” he said, chuckling.  “And the reason is because of how much effort the company puts into making sure that the customer experience is not only better, but the same every time.  If you look into the bottom of their to go bag, you’ll find diagrams that show the workers how to position the food, so that as soon as you put your hand in the bag as you’re driving away, you find those fries!”

“Yeah!  I never noticed that before!” Now that she thought about it, she remembered seeing the outlines for the cardboard boxes on the bottom of the bag. 

“It’s not something they advertise,” he agreed  “And our coffee is the same way: We don’t advertise that we put a lot of effort into making a really good cup every time, but we do.  That alone brings customers back.”

A cold draft came through the open door behind her and shifted her skirt on her rear, reminding her of her spankings earlier. She was suddenly aware of her present circumstances: she was standing right next to a virtual stranger, almost naked, and he had already spanked her twice!  She felt painful pinpricks at her hairline as she suddenly started to perspire.  He was standing right there, filling up almost all the space between the floor and ceiling of the small building.  He was reaching out to take her by the shoulders and force her down and – 

He was standing right there, looking directly into her eyes.  He was very calm.  She suddenly understood that he had watched her panic, and had simply stopped and waited.  He was reading her mind.  She knew with absolute clarity that he could see what she was thinking.  Yet he didn’t judge or even tell her what he knew.  He just waited, offering nothing but calm reassurance.  I’m not going to hurt you, his eyes said.  You are safe here, his smile promised.  This is a real job, with real pay.  She wasn’t sure how she got that last part, but she slowly relaxed and sipped her coffee, dropping her gaze.

“I forgot one essential part of your uniform,” he said.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pin, and handed it to her.  It was a yellow flower with the word “Buttercup” embossed across it in chrome lettering, so that the word was wider than the flower.  “This is your name tag.”  She took it and held it in her hand.  It was heavier than it looked, and exquisitely detailed when she examined it closely. She pinned it to her bra strap.

“Are you ready to practice?”

“Yes, Daddy!” She said.

“Good.  I’ll watch you make the first cup, and then I’ll leave you to it for a bit.”  He sat down on the foot stool in the corner, looking like the parent of a Kindergartener on parent teacher conference day, with his long legs jutting up awkwardly.  “Ahh, perfect,” he said, winking at her.  He waved his hand in an ironic, mock royal gesture, making his sitting pose look even sillier. “Go ahead.” He supervised her first attempt at a 12-oz double latte, which turned out even better than he had expected.  She recited his instructions perfectly as he quizzed her at each step, and even remembering to blow out the steam nozzle and wipe it off when she was done.  She put the white lid on the cup and pressed down until it locked into place, and then handed it to him with a smile.  

“12-oz double latte,” she said shyly.  He gravely put it to his lips and took a sip.

“Bravissimo!  Perfect cup!”  He rose effortlessly to his feet.  “Thank you, I’ll drink this one,” he said.  “A 12-ounce double latte happen to be my favorite cup of coffee,” he said.  He turned and walked out of the coffee stand and then stopped in front of the open window.  “Please make more of these, until I get back.”  He took a sip of his latte and then raised his cup to her in salute.  “Tomorrow, I’ll show you vanilla,” he said.  He turned and walked toward his office and disappeared through the door.


  1. Now I need some coffee, lol!

  2. Great tutorial on making coffee DH lol. Seriously, I'm enjoying this. Thank you for sharing your story with us. Looking forward to reading more :)


    1. Ha ha! Thanks, Roz! Yeah, I used to make a LOT of lattes at work at one of my former jobs. The boss brought in a real machine, and we learned how to use it! ;)

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