MARCUS
GAINS PROMOTION
Anger
and a dozen supporting emotions burst through me. I
had been bitterly let down, let down by someone I considered special.
“Get
him a taxi and get him out of here !” I
ordered with a note of venom in my voice before going into my own office
and slamming the door shut with such force that everything within a
range of forty feet rattled.
My
anger was so clear for all to see that nobody said anything and nobody
dared to venture after me. “Sod
you Marcus !”
Before
the death of my uncle I had been following a successful career as a
school teacher, a career I was moderately content with and one where I
had gained early promotion to become a housemaster in a large
comprehensive school. Today
the politically correct would say it was a challenging school,
back then we would say it was bloody
tough !
On
my appointment as head of house a colleague offered me some advice:
“Discipline is like the choke on an old fashioned car, not enough and
the engine won’t start – too much and it stalls.”
Marcus
had been one of he boys in my house, a likeable youth of sixteen with
fair to good examination prospects and absolutely no idea what he wanted
to do with his life. That
had been five years, almost six, ago and now he worked for me in my
business.
My
uncle had built up a highly successful car sales company. He
wasn’t the usual car salesman who talked more bullshit than could be
found on the cattle trail of the Wild West, he sold only second hand
prestige vehicles and classic cars from decades gone by. If
you wanted an Aston Martin DB5 or a Ferrari Testarossa then his was the
place to go. When
he died for some reason I never understood he left it all to me.
I
expanded the business importing old Ford Thunderbirds and Chevrolet
Impala’s from
I
took Marcus on as a salesman and he had undoubtedly contributed
significantly to my business success. His
youthful, pretty boy looks were popular with clients both male and
female. The
ladies fell in love with him and it was as if male customers felt they
could emulate Marcus’s charm and good looks by buying a car from him. You
may think that we did not get that many lady clients but there was never
a shortage of the rich and famous looking for something special as a
gift for the husband or boyfriend. It
was indeed to a lady buyer that Marcus had recently sold no fewer than
ten vehicles to be used in a movie classic set in the 1970’s. I
had used Marcus in my advertising campaign, his face appearing in glossy
magazines and trade press. Now
I was going to have to let Marcus go, to sack him, to fire him. I
had no choice, there was no alternative.
“Sod
you Marcus !”
I
didn’t emerge from my office for the rest of the day and when all of
the staff left at six I locked up and stayed inside. Tomorrow
when Marcus came in I would fire him. If
he didn’t dare show his face I would call him and do it over the
phone. I
was determined and nothing would change my mind !
So
angry was I that I wasn’t in any hurry to go home and would probably
remain in the office fuming with anger all night. Then
the telephone rang. It
was my private direct line. Picking
up the phone I listened to Marcus’s voice.
“You’re
working late, I thought you would be. I
know you’re going to sack me so can I come in now and get it over with
?”
“Yes
!” I snapped and slammed down the receiver.
Marcus
must have been calling from the public phone box just down the road for
in moments he used his key to let himself into the showroom. I’d
have that key back before he left.
Marcus
smiled a little nervously but his eyes twinkled as they met mine. I
refused to soften and drew breath in order to launch forth but Marcus
held up his hands in an act of submission. I
hesitated. I
shouldn’t have done that for with it I lost the initiative. He
had changed from the way he had been just a few hours previously, now
sober he was back to his every inch a pretty boy. He
wasn’t dressed in his usual salesman attire but casually in jeans,
trainers and open neck shirt.
“What would you have done if a boy at school had returned drunk after lunch ?” Marcus asked.
“We’re
not at school now !” I replied curtly but before I could continue
Marcus again held up his hands.
“I’ll
tell you what you would have done,” he continued. “You’d
have slippered him. No
questions asked and no excuses accepted. I
have no excuse, no excuse at all, for coming into work drunk this
afternoon.”
He
paused as he kicked off his right trainer, picked it up and held it out
across the desk to me. Instinctively
I took it from him.
“I
think what ever else you decide,” Marcus continued, “that you sold
slipper me now.”
Initially
the idea was preposterous but it did have some possibilities. As
his suggestion played about in my brain I felt my dick start to harden. In
my previous teaching career I had spanked the backsides of many a
naughty boy using a tennis shoe known as “The Slipper”. The
duty went with the job and I thought nothing of it, it gave me neither
pleasure nor displeasure and certainly there was never the remotest
thought of anything sexual about it. But
looking then at Marcus and considering his proposal I felt different.
“You
never slippered me at school did you ?” Marcus
said removing the other shoe.
“No,”
I replied quietly. My
mouth was dry and the words croaked out.
“I
think six of the best are called for,” Marcus
smiled, “and on a bare arse.”
He
began to unbutton his shirt exposing a perfectly formed chest with toned
muscles in faultless place and proportion. His
fingers then attended to the belt on his jeans which fell to the floor. As
he stepped out of them I noticed how he had not been wearing any socks. My
mind pondered this inconsequential yet strange fact at the same time
thinking what a beautiful young man he was. It
would be a shame to bruise that beauty by slippering him but I would do
it. Yes
I would do
it. Marcus
deserved it and for the first time ever I was going to enjoy giving out
punishment.
The
rumbling in my underpants had turned to a full explosion. I
stood carefully behind the desk trying to hide the predicament. Marcus
was smiling but I hoped he had not registered my thoughts or observed my
dilemma. Time
for me then moved into slow motion while for Marcus it proceeded at its
normal pace of sixty seconds to the minute. I
was hence able to extend the period and look fully at my young
colleague. God
he was beautiful, an artist’s Adonis turned into flesh. I
rolled my eyes over every inch of that exposed flesh and speculated at
that still concealed behind a pair of incredibly tight white briefs. My
eyes focused on those briefs regarding a thick line of manhood
stretching the tight material.
“Ready
?” Marcus said before hooking his fingers into the waistband of the
briefs and hauling them down to hang at his knees.
My
heart increased its already frantic drumbeat as it saw two low-hanging
balls below a thick uncut cock. Marcus
gave me time to take in the view then leaned forward and braced himself
over the edge of my desk. I
took up the trainer and weighed it in my right hand before crossing to
stand behind him. At
the sight of his two peach-like bums cheeks I had to strain in order to
prevent my cock from exploding. I
wanted to reach out and stroke such delicious beauty but summonsed every
fibre of resistance to stand firm. There
was a job to be done and I must not shirk my duty.
I
never kept a count of the naughty adolescent behinds I had addressed
with my slipper at school. They
were of no consequence and long since forgotten, a job to be done and
got rid of as quickly as possible. But
this was a slippering I would take my time over and it would be one I
would enjoy not only in that moment but also within the archive of my
memory for a long while to come.
Being
right handed there is a natural tendency to bring the slipper down on
the right cheek where a maximum impact and resulting pain can be
achieved. If
ever I had cause to give a lad a single whack this was the manner in
which it would be applied. Usually
a boy’s crime would merit two whacks and for the second, by pushing
the wrist hard back just before the moment of impact, the slipper would
fall on the left buttock. Two
whacks would hence be given, one on each cheek. It
is possible, providing the slipper being used is large enough in
proportion o the backside of its application, to lay a stroke
simultaneously across both cheeks. To do this initial aim is made for
the right cheek but as the slipper is brought down with force both rapid
and hard it is moved with a lesser momentum from right to left. If the
timing is correct the impact will slide across the behind and impact a
stinging contact with both buttocks.
I
rested the trainer on Marcus’s rear end as I considered my options and
planned the combination of stroked I would apply. Marcus
tensed his naked body to take his punishment. His
buttocks instinctively pinched together leaving a dimple on each side.
Slowly
I raised my arm high above and behind my head, I leaned back slightly
then pushed my body forward to add momentum as the slipper sped through
the air. It
landed square on its target of Marcus’s right buttock sending an
almighty crack echoing about the office. Never before had I used such
force and Marcus was taking it bare
arse, god it must have hurt him. He
tensed and gasped audibly for air but did not cry out.
Part
of the art of slippering is to get the strokes in as quickly as possible
so the pain level can be increased with each whack and not allowing the
victim to experience any fall off from one before the next hits him. My
arm immediately raised back and my body taking up the needed stance
number two began its descent towards that beautiful pretty boy behind. This
time I twisted my wrist and applied the stroke to the left buttock. I
looked to see any sign of bruising or reddening of the flesh but the two
strokes had been delivered in just a few seconds without time yet for
the body to react to its attack.
Slippering
at school was always delivered to a trousered behind and it never
crossed my mind what the lad’s cheeks would look like when my skilful
work was concluded. When I had been a boy at school myself there was one
particularly vicious PE teacher who would order a boy to drop his shorts
before receiving a whacking. He
was universally hated and no member of his class would have thought to
do anything other than radiate sympathy towards his sorry victim and
never stare to see what mark the slipper may make. But
standing over Marcus I willed the results of the two strokes I had
applied to show themselves.
Numbers
three and four I had decided to apply to the right cheek and to lay them
directly on top of where number one had hit. As
the second stroke had struck pain to the left buttock that surging
through the right would soon start to fade ever so slightly. By
applying two more to the exact spot it would flare up like embers
attacked with hot air from bellows.
When
the third stroke cracked down on Marcus faint beads of sweat began to
form on his back and his breathing became rapid and loud yet still he
did not cry out. I
have known sixteen year olds cry out as the pain surged trough them and
even the toughest would have been shedding tears had they received the
punishment I was now giving to Marcus.
After
the fourth I wondered if I should stop but no I
would continue to the end.
Marcus’s
whole body would have been racked with pain so the method used for the
final two strokes would have done little to change the acceleration of
hurt they could inflict. I
had decided to see if I had lost any of my skill and to see if I could
still apply the most difficult stroke by laying the slipper on both
cheeks at the same time. I
had not lost the skill and allowed the slipper to remain in place for a
moment after its fifth shot in order to appreciate just how accurate my
aim had been.
I
felt a sense of disappointment that the next stroke I would apply would
be the last, number six of six of the best. I would have liked to
continue but any such thoughts were out of the question, few could have
taken the degree of punishment Marcus had and his crime probably did not
merit even this level. I
considered also what would happen after the final stroke. At
school the slippered boy would leave without too much ado and everyone
get on with their daily tasks, the punishment soon forgotten in my mind
and for the boy probably also forgotten as soon as his behind stopped
stinging. But
here I would be left with a beautiful, naked Marcus – my friend and
employee. Of
one thing I was certain, he would remain my employee – I had no
intention now of sacking him, and I hoped he would also remain my
friend.
The
punishment finished with an expertly placed sixth whack landing exactly
across the two buttocks where number five had struck. My
heart pounded inside my chest and I realised it wasn’t only the sound
of Marcus’s breathing I could hear but also that of my own. Marcus
did not move for a moment, just a few seconds but they felt like hours. I
wanted to speak but did not know what to say. I
waited for a reaction from Marcus but nothing came. I
don’t know why but I flung the slipper across the room, it struck the
water cooler and fell to the floor. Come
on Marcus say something.
Slowly,
ever so slowly Marcus pushed himself up from the desk and visibly winced
in pain as the contour of his backside changed. He
turned and I looked into his face using a sixth sense to transmit to him
the inner emotions I was feeling. That
face was white and showed pain yet smiled and then his eyes twinkled
their usual sparkle and I knew all was well. He
reached his arms about me and embraced his former school teacher. I
had only looked at his face, I had not regarded the rest of his body but
now I felt his rock hard cock press against me. Even
though my clothing Marcus would have been able to feel my own which had
remained erect and throbbing throughout the entire slippering.
Marcus
whispered into my ear. “Thanks” he said.
He
released his hold on me but as his arms unfolded themselves he took my
right hand and placed it on top of his hot, erect cock. My
head fell back and I gasped with delight. As
I enjoyed the truly magnificent feeling Marcus took the tie from about
my neck and unbuttoned my shirt. His
hands moved to drop my trousers. What
was happening ? What
ever it was it was wonderful.
“Are
you still planning to sack me ?”
“No,” I
stammered. “No
way.”
Marcus
was on his knees kneeling in front of me my
trousers and briefs were gone and my cock quivering towards him.
“Thank
you,” he smiled. “Can I see if I can persuade you to give me a
promotion ?”
“Of
course.”
Marcus was given his promotion, it was well and truly deserved, but that’s another story. Perhaps one day I’ll tell it to you.
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© D J Publications
