Appraisal (M/M) NEW!

♥ Site recommended story ♥

A brand new story by Rod Cayenne.  Dedicated with special thanks to Gerry, good friend of Rod and The Canery, who suggested the initial idea.  This story is currently exclusive to The Canery and is only suitable for adults!

 

He was just eighteen, but he’d been around the block long enough to know a cheap cigar when he caught a whiff of one.  And that really was the cheapest of the cheap that his boss, Mr McGuire, was puffing.

“Good sales this week, team!  If I can believe Judy’s figures, that is.  They are right, aren’t they Judy?”

“Oh yes, Mr McGuire, sir.  You can be sure that they’re correct. I checked them twice, to be sure.”

“Well, that’s good.  Most satisfactory.  You can all go home now, that’s almost half an hour early, I think.  Am I right, Judy?”

“I haven’t double checked, but it does sound right, Mr McGuire!” Judy replied cheekily, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Good, off you all go then!  Except you, Master Williams.  We’d scheduled your first monthly appraisal for 4.30 hadn’t we?”

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten that Mr McGuire, sir!”

“I’m not in the least bit surprised to hear that, Williams!  Now, into my office!  The rest of you, have a great weekend and see you Monday.”

Williams idled around as he watched the rest of the team preparing to depart, most of them bound for the delights of the local pub, the City Arms.

“MY OFFICE, NOW!” boomed McGuire to his new recruit.  The ladies of the team tittered and tutted as they tarted themselves with lippy and the men smirked at Williams.  Meanwhile, the lad, barely eighteen, wondered why they were so slow at leaving and why his boss was suddenly being so fierce.

Trevor “Willy” Williams had been working for the company for six weeks.  As part of his probation, he had been made aware that there would be monthly appraisals with the boss.  It hadn’t worried him unduly but now he was biting his lip nervously as he opened the half-glazed door to the boss’s office.  Mr McGuire followed him in.

“Sit down lad.  First off, an apology that this appraisal is two weeks’ late.  This was due to Mrs McGuire’s sudden decision that we should go on one of these new-fangled package holidays to Torremolinos, Spain.  I think that was a case of keeping up with the neighbours, you know.  My first time in a jet aeroplane, by the way.  British-built, of course.”

Trevor smiled to himself.  It seemed that Mrs McGuire wore the trousers in that relationship!  It was good that Mr McGuire was being friendlier again.  That fierce side was something he didn’t want to see again.  However, his luck was out as suddenly his boss stood up, and paced around the metal desk, and started reeling off faults that he’d found with his latest recruit:

“You’ve been late four times!  You fell asleep in the staff canteen during morning break.  You’ve missed your targets twice.  You were rude to Judy, Maureen and several times to Wendy.  You spend far too long in toilets.  You’re not, ahem, abusing yourself at work, I hope?”

“Oh no sir,” said Trevor while making a mental note to stop masturbating at work, no matter how sexy the office girls were, “I wouldn’t dare do that.”

“Indeed.  And then today, to cap it all, well I’m sure I could smell alcohol on your breath.”

“Oh, that’s because Mum forgot to buy a new tube of Colgate, Mr McGuire.”

“WHAT?!  It’s no good blaming your mother, lad!  It’s your responsibility.  You shouldn’t even be drinking at your age.”

“But, but, I’m eighteen!”

“Stop arguing lad!  No drinking allowed in the working week.  I’m sure it states that in your contract of engagement.  If it doesn’t, it should.  But then our Personnel Department is pretty hopeless.  Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes, now, this all paints a sorry picture.  A very sorry picture.”

“I’m sorry, very sorry, Mr McGuire.”

Trevor’s repetitious response earned an immediate rebuke from his boss, “Are you being funny with me, lad?”

“Oh no, Mr McGuire.”

“Good!  I should think not!  Now all these faults…this is a very bad start.  I’m disappointed.  I could let you go.  Give you your cards.”

“Oh no, please, Mr McGuire.  I’ll pull my socks up.”

“Actually lad, never mind pulling your socks up, you can pull your trousers down.  I’ve decided that the office cane is the only possible answer to this very poor start.”

“Office cane?  What office cane?”

“Oh yes, lad.  My office cane.  Every office should have one, I reckon.  You’re lucky that this office does indeed have one.  Look!”

It was a cane, of that Trevor could have no doubt.  It had appeared as if from nowhere, conjured up by the magician before him.  It was a trick, a magic but sinister trick.  Trevor looked at the cane with a little disdain, some fear and maybe a dash of excitement too.  Yes, he was definitely feeling mixed emotions as he stared at the lithe and purposeful wand that his boss was flexing in front of him.  McGuire told him to drop his trousers.  Trevor’s slacks fell down decisively.  “You can keep your underwear on this first time.  Yes.  That’s fair, I think.  Anyway, rather smart Jockeys you’ve got there, lad.  Nice and pure white.”

“Err, thank you.”

“Next time though, no matter how smart your pants are, it will be bare bottom.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Err, yes Mr McGuire, Sir.  Bare bottom,” said Trevor blushing a deep red, and wishing that he hadn’t repeated McGuire’s words.

“Yes, and if it’s bare bottom I might find out why everyone calls you Willy!  Might I not?”  McGuire laughed meanly, but really this was no time for humour, “Now, you’d better bend over this chair.  Make sure you hold on tight to the seat.  Let me just check that we’re alone. I thought I heard something or someone out there.”

Soon it was Trevor who heard something; it was McGuire shouting at a colleague, “Bugger off Lyle!  Unless you want a refresher with this here cane?  In front of young Williams.”

Trevor heard the main office door slam decisively and then his boss returned cane in hand.  Only then did Trevor realise that McGuire had been out into the office with the cane, therefore indicating what fate had in store.  Then he realised from what his boss had said that his co-worker “Lucky” Lyle was obviously no stranger to the cane.  Which in turn was strange as Lyle was clearly in his thirties and surely too old to have been caned anytime recently?  Maybe his luck had run out?

“Let’s get down to business.  Time to teach you a lesson, my lad.  No-one, but no-one messes with Mr McGuire and his team!”

Trevor heard the unmistakeable swoosh of the cane as it swept down and whacked his pristine underpants.  There was an almighty crack, and then searing pain kicked in.  Trevor was startled and breathless.  He hadn’t expected his day at the office to end this way, with a shameful beating.  He gasped for air, and inhaled it deeply before releasing it with a tired sigh.

“There, that was for being rude to the girls.  How was that, my boy?.”

“That was awful, Mr McGuire.  Although I suppose I deserve it.”

“You certainly do, you certainly do.  The next stroke will be for persistent lateness.”

McGuire lashed the cane dowh forcefully.  Again it cracked into the tight white briefs. It was worse than the first stroke, much worse.  “And the next stroke is also for persistent lateness.  Don’t let it happen again!”

“Arrggh!” screamed Trevor as the full intensity of the two lateness strokes combined with the initial stroke.  His arse was now throbbing with pain and aflame with repentance.

“Not liking it, are we boy?”

“No sir, Mr McGuire, sir.”

“No,  and here comes stroke number four.  This one’s for falling asleep in the canteen and consequently being late back to your desk.”  The cane rose and fell…

“I’m sorry Mr McGuire.  Arrrrghh!  Ouch!  I’m really sorry.”

“Good, I’m liking what I’m hearing.”  And indeed he was.  He was liking it with truly sadistic glee.

“Next stroke coming.  For arsing around in the toilets.  Swinging the lead or whatever you get up to in there.  I’m not having it!  Do you hear?”

Tevor heard alright, but was too preoccupied to answer as the whippy rattan landed another stinging, vengeful blow.  He gasped and choked.  It was all too much.  He felt his eyes moistening.  Shit, he didn’t want to cry!

“Now then, you’ve had five strokes.  I guess you’re hoping for no more than the usual six of the best?”

“Yes, Mr McGuire.”

“Well, tough!  You’ve missed two sales targets, so it’s two strokes to come.  Coming now!”

And they did come.  Rapidly.  Scorchingly.  Meaningfully.

“Just buck your ideas up, lad,” sighed the boss as he laid the cane down on his desk.  “I don’t enjoy having to do this, you know.”  McGuire was such a liar!

On Monday morning, Trevor arrived at work punctually.  A plump, well-padded and rose-coloured cushion had been placed on his office chair.  Williams blushed the deepest red he’d ever gone.  It was obvious that every single member of the sales team knew damn well what was likely to have transpired at the so-called appraisal.  Indeed his worst suspicions were confirmed as subtle ribbing, jokes and shaming carried on all week.  The pain from the bullying was almost as bad as the pain from the beating.  So much so that Trevor declined an invitation to join his colleagues at The City Arms on the Friday.

On the following Friday, just a fortnight after the appraisal, Mr McGuire leant over Trevor’s desk.  This time it was the boss who smelt of alcohol.  He leered at his junior and said, “Williams, I’ve decided to bring your appraisal forward to this afternoon, so that we can get back on to track to the monthly schedule.  I think you know what to expect.”

Trevor didn’t know for sure, but he did expect it would be a bare bottom caning this time.  Oh hell.

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D I S C L A I M E R

All characters appearing in this story are over 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or businesses, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Story © MMXIX by Rod Cayenne.  All rights reserved.

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