Mrs Simpson slowly cruised around the mall carpark for the third time. If she hadn't needed blood pressure medication before, she'd need it soon, she felt.

What was it with these people? Why did they need to park their hulking great 4WDs slewed across two spots? Were all those people with BMWs really disabled? How long do you have to spend in this place? Surely they must have better things to do with their lives than come to the mall and stay here for hours, especially when SHE only had Saturday mornings to shop for the family.

Her eight year old daughter Samantha, sitting in the front seat beside her, had caught her mood and wasn't saying anything. Which made a nice change, Mrs Simpson thought viciously.

Eventually chaos theory was vindicated, in the sense that Mrs Simpson found a vacant parking spot, and some other smart arse didn't try to get into it first. With a sigh of relief Mrs Simpson eased the family car into the spot and turned off the engine.

"Now Samantha," she said irritably "seeing that we're now running late I'd like you to go to The Supa Fresh and get me a dozen apples while I go to the Magna Grocer and do the rest of the shopping. Here's $10. Do you know what to get?"

"Yes Mummy" her daughter replied, repeating what she'd heard many times before. "Royal gala variety, no marks or bruises, round and red and not too big."

"Yes, that's right" replied her mother. Samantha had answered in what she read, in her frustrated mood, as an insolent tone. Mrs Simpson would have liked to give her a good hard spanking on the spot, but time was against her.

"OK, off you go" she said instead. "And wait for me back here!"

---

The Supa frsh was crowded and noisy, and Samantha was jostled and blocked many times as she made her way through the gigantic store to where she knew the apples to be. Taking a plastic bag she carefully picked out 12 nice apples, put them in the bag and made her way to the express checkout, clutching the $10 note.

As usual there was a long wait, but in due course little Samantha found herself at the checkout counter. It was staffed by a sour old biddy that she'd seen here before, and didn't like one bit. However, knowing that her mother was counting on her, she faced up to the old gorgon and placed her apples on the counter and tendered the money.

"What do you think you're doing?" demanded the woman in a sharp tone.

"I-I want to pay for these apples" Samantha replied. She felt a bit frightened already.

"Can't you read child?" demanded the woman in a sarcastic tone. "It says up there" and the old hag pointed at the big sign above the express checkout "10 items or less. You have 12!"

"B-but, they're all the same Miss" said Samantha in a small voice.

"Don't call me Miss!" shrieked the old harpy. "You will address me as Madame! Do you understand?"

"Yes M-Madame" gasped the frightened little girl.

Some of the people in the growing queue behind were getting restless and were hurling insults in the general direction of the counter.

"Now see what you've done, you naughty little girl!"

Samantha burst into tears. "I'm... sorry... Madame...." she sobbed.

"Sorry isn't good enough" said the woman in a voice that was low, but full of menace. "You'll have to be punished!"

And so saying the old biddy came out from behind the counter, grabbed the crying little girl and in a single swift movement hoisted her up onto the counter. Before Samantha knew what was happening she was pushed face down on the dirty counter, with her little yellow sun dress up aroud her waist and her little white cotton stretch panties down around her thighs.

Wriggle as she might, she couldn't get free. Her screams for help were to no avail, for you see the other customers were resentful that they had been delayed and all of them, without exception, agreed that the little girl needed a good spanking.

It must be recognised that some of the people in the queue were also pleased, judging by the bulges or the moist patches in the front of their pants, to see Samantha's bare little bottom. A few of them felt that the bare bottoms, and other privare parts, of little girls and boys should be seen more often.

Slap! went the woman's hard and caloused hand on Samantha's soft little white bottom.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went the hand, again and again.

The poor little girl shrieked and cried, and begged to be let go, but all in vain. She was going to be punished!

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went the woman's hand, harder than ever, on her now sore and red bottom.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Slap! one last time.

"There, that should do you" gasped the nasty old woman, now breathing heavily and red in the face. "You're a naughty, dirty little girl and I hope you've learned a lesson" she continued as she pushed her off the counter.

"Y-yes Madame" sobbed poor little Samantha as she hitched up her panties and sidled away, feeling that the eyes of everyone in the mall were upon her.

***************

"Where are the apples?" demanded Mrs Simpson in the same irritable tone as before. "Why are you crying Samantha?" The little girl told her mother what had happened.

"Well then, where is the $10?"

Where indeed? Samantha realised that she must have dropped the note while she was being spanked.

"I-I don't know Mummy" she sobbed. "I must have dropped it when the lady spanked me."

"Oh! That is too much!" Shouted her mother. First you're insolent to me and the woman in the Supa Fresh, and then you go losing my hard-earned money."

"I-I'm sorry Mummy" Samantha managed to got out between sobs.

"Sorry isn't good enough my girl! You're going to be punished. Right here!"

And with those words Mrs Simpson grabbed her daughter and slung her feebly resisting form across the hood of the car. With a few deft movements she had Samantha's sundress up around her waist and her panties down and was beginning to lay into her with the flat of her hand.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went Mrs Simpson's hand on her daughter's already red and sore little bare bottom.

"Please stop Mummy" she pleaded, but it was no good. Her mother was intent on giving her daughter the lesson that she so badly needed.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

"There" said her mother finally, breathless and flushed. "That should teach you a lesson. In future my girl you'll do what you're told and will treat adults with respect!"

---

Both Mrs Simpson and the checkout lady had one thing in common, although they didn't realise it. After spanking Samantha they both had a warm and tingly feeling. If our little girl had known that she'd been the cause of forging a bond between two people who didn't know each other, do you think she would have been pleased?