Here is a little taster for all you pickle lovers out there! I hope it makes you smile ...
Mr Branston pursed his lips. It was a difficult task. There was Ellen, with her blonde curls and big boobs and a cute pert rump and long legs. Then there was Hazel, shorter and curvier with even bigger boobs and a more rounded bottom.
"Damn it, ladies. Kindly bend over my desk with your knickers round your ankles."
Ellen and Hazel shrugged, lowered their underwear, raised their skirts, and bent over Mr Branston's desk. What a glorious sight. Two beautiful bottoms. But which one was the best?
"Damn it, ladies. I'm going to have to cane you both to help me decide."
A few minutes later, both girls sported six blazing stripes across their rumps. Mr Branston the pickle mogul stood back to admire his handiwork. What perfect symmetry ... such fine precision ... and what superb coloration. Even so, he couldn't choose between them.
"Sorry girls, but I don't think either of you are quite suitable for the position of onion pickler. Off you go - and send the next lot in will you."
He took his duties as an employer very seriously indeed.