Time for a bite

Thinking about where to go while surrounded by aisles lined with various food products leads you to a conclusion: lunch. You recall seeing a small shop in the plaza that specialized in sub sandwiches of all sorts, so you figure that you can pick up some grub there. Thinking about it, you haven't actually eaten anything today. As you realize this, your stomach growls loudly as if expressing relief that you've finally remembered its existence. Yeah...it's time for a bite.

Returning down the path you entered, you find yourself in the bright sunlight of the outside world once again as you exit the supermarket. Spotting the sandwich shop a small ways off on the horizon, you begin to walk there along the boulevard of the plaza. On your journey, you pass by a high-end fancy looking clothing store that makes you stop in your tracks with curiosity. The mannequins they have on display are sporting some of the most top quality suits and dresses you've ever seen. Behind them, you can see the store itself and its insides through the glass windows—needless to say, the interior design of the place is incredible, resembling the first class lounge of an overpriced cruise ship. The few people browsing the store's wares are all affluent, well-dressed people. Yes, this is one of the few establishments in this plaza that a majority of people don't visit. Even with the relatively small amount of daily customers, however, there's no doubt in your mind that they make their profits.

As you marvel at the clothing choices of the rich and the fabulous, you notice two women appreciating the elegant dresses on display in the window: a young girl in her late teens who's got her arms crossed with a massive pout on her face and an older woman with a somewhat annoyed expression on hers. Given their similarities, you can venture to guess that the older woman is the mother of the girl—both of them radiate an aura of sophisticated beauty with sun blonde hair and crisp blue eyes. The daughter, who stands at about 5'4", has very long, healthy hair that flows down to her waist like a waterfall. The mother, on the other hand, stands at a much taller 5'8" or 5'9" with her hair in a trendy short cut that stops right below her ears. For their attire, they wear magnificently sewn multi-layered white blouses and matching white skirts with expertly stylized makeup prettying up their already unsurprisingly attractive faces. Their position in society and level of wealth is painfully obvious at first sight.

The older woman shakes her head, looking as if she's shaken it a million times already. "I'm sorry, darling," she says in a downcast tone with an almost regal voice indicative of her status in life. "I can't get you that dress. You'll have to pick a different one."

The girl groaned loudly, her pout growing in intensity. "Mother, I insist!" she whined, raising her voice as if doing so would convince her mother to purchase her desired dress. "It's ONLY another thousand dollars!"

'Only' a thousand more dollars...? Like most children born into wealthy families, this girl is definitely a spoiled brat. That's nearly a month's rent for you, for Christ's sake.

The mother's look turned sharp, staring at her daughter with stern disapproval. "Mallory Anastasia Elisabeth Divheim!" she lashes back, her own voice escalating in strength. "Where in God's name do you think you get off speaking to your mother like that?!"

Oh, man. The full name treatment—always an effective tool in dealing with rowdy children, especially in the case of rich people who always tend to have obnoxiously long names for no reason. Mallory's face quickly turns sour upon hearing the entirety of her identity yelled in such a manner, grimacing with irritation.

"Your father gave us an $8,000 budget, young lady," Mallory's mother explains after a short sigh. "It's disgustingly rude that you're even considering a $5,000 dress when I require one for the cotillion as much as you do. Are you honestly suggesting an uneven split in your favor with the woman who raised you? Ungrateful child. You're lucky I'm not using the money on all myself and forcing you to wear a dress you already have."

"But Mother!" Mallory continues, unyielding in her efforts to get what she wants like any overindulged child would. "I WANT this dress!"

Jeez. Even though she's clearly around the age of 18 or 19, you wouldn't be surprised if someone mistook her for an elementary schooler whining like that.

That's when the idea hits you—why not take a few minutes out of your lunch plans to help a frustrated parent deal with her unruly child?

Putting on the best look of disapproval you can, you walk over to the two of them. "Ma'am, if I may," you tell the mother as you hand Mallory the snottiest glare you can with your eyes. "I believe your daughter's rude, bratty behavior is disturbing the peace."

"Excuse me?!" Mallory's voice bursts with rage, looking like she's just about ready to rip you into pieces and drawing the attention of nearby shoppers in the area. "Lowly knaves like you have absolutely NO place talking to someone like me! A peasant of your status should be groveling at my feet before even THINKING about speaking a single word, you uncultured swine!"

Knave.

She just called you a knave.

...Wow. Do people in rich families still use vocabulary like that? Then again, you remember her mother saying something about a cotillion. At this rate, you wouldn't be surprised if their home had a dungeon of some sort.

In any case, it's painfully clear that Mallory thinks of herself as the center of the universe above all other people. With her responding to you like that, it's almost like you were never even gifted universal acceptance. The only way you could make her susceptible is to bring her down from the deeply rooted spot at the top of the food chain that she thinks she owns.

Thankfully, you know exactly how to accomplish that.

"Ma'am," you kindly address to Mallory's mother. "If I may suggest something?"

"Oh, you may call me Wendy, sir," she replies with the utmost of courteousness, showing herself to be a much more pleasurable person than her brat of a daughter. With an attitude like that, she'll have no problem falling victim to the delusion of your words. "Pray tell, what is your suggestion?"

"It's quite simple, really," you admit to Wendy. "Your daughter requires a thorough, dominant spanking right here for all to see. It's the only way she'll learn."

"WHAT?!" the spoiled brat counters with a booming yell, still so firmly placed on her high horse that your words continue to have no effect on her. "Mother, you don't plan on actually listening to this impudent good-for-nothing jester, do you?!"

Contrary to Mallory's beliefs, Wendy nods to herself slowly with a look of agreement in her eyes, unconcerned with how inappropriate your recommendation actually is. "Mallory, this man makes a rather compelling argument. Acting so outlandishly barbaric towards others begets outlandishly barbaric repercussions such as a public spanking. Against the wall!" she commands with authority towards her disorderly child, pointing to the glass display window in front of them. "You will remove your skirt and panties this instant and promptly place yourself against this wall for disciplinary action!"

"M-Mother...!" Mallory says with a gasp, her eyes widening with confusion. "Surely, you can't be serious!"

"We're very serious," you confirm with a very roundabout nod, "and neither of us are named Shirley. Do you really think going against your mother any further is a good idea?"

Mallory gives you the most dark, murderous glare that you've ever had the misfortune of experiencing. However, now going through with what she believes to be the proper course of action, her mother hisses at her. "Young lady! Remove your skirt and panties this instant or else there will be no cotillion for you whatsoever!"

"W-what?!" Mallory cries in a collective mixture of surprise and sadness. "That's utterly asinine! Henry is expecting me tomorrow and?"

"If you really wish to see Henry at this gathering tomorrow," Wendy cuts her off, still pointing to the store's window, "then you will accept these consequences that you brought upon yourself!"

Eyes and mouth quivering with rage and general disagreement, Mallory shoots you one last "I will kill you in your sleep" kind of glare before grabbing her skirt by the waistline and bringing it down to her ankles along with the extremely frilly and ornate pink panties beneath them. With these articles of clothing at her feet, she stands bottomless before you with only decorative white stockings bearing floral patterns equipped on her legs. The stockings go up very high around her thigh, beautifully accentuating the curves of her waist and helping her seductive hips to look more robust than they already are. Her neatly shaven pussy looks incredibly inviting when outlined and highlighted by her tall stockings, so much so that you're already imagining her moaning with feverish pleasure as you spear her even harder than you did Alexis in the supermarket. It's already undeniable truth: you really, really want to penetrate this girl at some point.

You'll get to that later, though.

Turning around with her frustration still ever present on her face, Mallory indignantly flaunts her hair and raises her head as she bends over and places the palms of her hands against the glass window of the store's display. Presenting her snow white behind at her mother's request, you can't help but appreciate it in its full splendor—to say the least, the fluffy and extravagant skirt did a stellar job of hiding just how well-rounded and nice her ass really was. Her untainted pussy and anus stare you in the eye, making you wonder how good and tight her insides must feel. In a way, her asshole is actually adorable with how small and tight it is, almost reflective of her spoiled and stubborn character.

"I can't believe you're actually making me do this," Mallory whines towards her mother, awaiting her fate.

"T'was your immaturity and bad manners that turned this outcome into reality, foolish child," Wendy responds to her daughter, pulling out a small white glove from her purse. Slowly putting it over her left hand, she snaps it into place with a look of disgust on her face. "I could have sworn that you would have learned how to behave properly at some point in your life since your birth eighteen years ago, but it appears I was sorely mistaken."

"Looks like this is the only option," you chime in, offering your views to Wendy. "Just get those cheeks to a deep red and the rest will sort itself out."

"Naturally," Wendy agrees with steadfast belief as she takes a step towards her daughter, placing her unclothed right hand on her daughter's arched back. "Don't act like such a brat and we might not have to resort to this next time, Mallory."

Before her daughter can speak up in protest, Wendy delivers the first spank to Mallory's left cheek, causing the girl's incoming words to instead swiftly transform into a small yelp of pain. Switching to the adjacent cheek, Wendy raises her hand high and brings it down fiercely, smacking the soft skin of Mallory's bottom hard and causing her sizable ass to jiggle madly. In response, Mallory releases another brief bark of discomfort. It's looking pretty clear that Mallory is rarely disciplined like this, if at all ever, so this is definitely an unpleasant experience for her.

You can feel a boner taking shape in your shorts as you continue to watch a refined, mature woman strike her daughter's fine-looking ass in public. While you only really set all of this up in an effort to make your ability have an effect on Mallory by humiliating her to show her that she wasn't what the world revolved around, this is much hotter than you had anticipated.

The scene goes on for a good five or so minutes, causing looks of surprise and mystification from passing shoppers. You can see Mallory on the verge of tears, her resistance to pain being nothing to write home about given the pampered environment she grew up in. After an obscene amount of spanks—you lost count after 47, honestly—Wendy ceases the punishment, lifting her hands from her daughter and looking at her slightly wet eyes with disappointment. "Feeling damaged now, are we, my dear? As they say, if you cannot appropriately deal with the temperature of the kitchen, then immediately vacate the area."

...You're almost positive that that's not quite how the saying goes, but you leave it be for now.

"That was quite the spanking," you comment to Wendy, congratulating her for her work. "I'm sure your daughter will stay in line from now on."

Looking towards Mallory's sullen face and recovering tearful eyes, you decide to see if your efforts weren't in vain. "Come on, Mallory. The worst is over. You can get off the window now," you tell her with as calm as a voice as you can.

Obediently, Mallory takes her hands off the glass and takes her regular stance of poise and grace. Her delectable ass that you nearly could have mistaken for a big marshmallow just a few minutes ago is now red as a tomato, almost as if it were blushing deeply. To be honest, just the sight of it makes you want to whip out your cock right now and just slide yourself into her asshole.

The distressed girl turns back to you and her mother, skirt and panties still at her ankles. She doesn't bother to pull them back up, though—she's too busy catching her breath and wiping the tears away. This girl is far cuter when she isn't being an obnoxious snob.

"I trust you won't be giving your mother anymore trouble from here on out?" you ask her with an expectant gaze.

"Y-yes," she slowly manages to affirm through her tears. "I'm sorry."

"I apologize for the severe extents that I went to, Mallory, but it was just a necessary evil," Wendy clarifies to her daughter with an apology as she removes her spanking glove from her hand, placing it back in her purse. "I hope you've learned your lesson."

Mallory's tears slowly come to their end, her sweet white cheeks stained by the darkened lines of their dried pathways. She continues to stand there with the lower half of her attire sitting at her feet, too heavily affected by the realization that she can't act as she pleases to realize that she should pull them back up. Wendy stares at her daughter with contemplative eyes for a moment before releasing another brief sigh. "I suppose that's that, then."

Is it really? You ponder your options for a moment. Your hunger is what initially lead you in this direction, but after seeing Mallory's beautiful high class body, a different sort of hunger has emerged from within you...the question is, which one do you satiate? Perhaps you could satiate both at once?

Looking over to Wendy, you consider the possibility of having some fun with her as well. A well-to-do older woman who looks incredibly good for her age with a body that couldn't possibly disappoint...your mind is running wild with the scenarios you could set up with her. You're also quick to realize that you could even bring Mallory into these plans. The possibilities are simply endless.

Well, it's time to make up your mind. Will you continue with your original plans and go to the sandwich shop as you've been headed to this whole time? Or will you instead opt to feed your secondary appetite, the primal lust that takes form whenever you even so much as look at Mallory whose beauty is only multiplied when she isn't acting unreasonable? Should you take the alternate route and go after Wendy? Or are you going to try and make a threesome sort of blueprint work out with this mother and daughter? Now that you've successfully managed to shatter Mallory's delusions of grandeur, you can easy put her under your own delusions, so anything's possible.

So, what's the plan?