♥ Site recommended story ♥
A brand new sequel by Rod Cayenne. The original story can be found here.
Both stories are dedicated to Gerry, good friend of Rod and The Canery.
All the characters are aged 18 or above. This story is currently exclusive to this site and is for adults only!
Reappraisal by Rod Cayenne
“Well, here we are again Williams. I do believe that this is your penultimate official probationary appraisal. Of course, as a diligent boss, with a duty of care, I’ll keep up with reviewing you on an unofficial basis. I trust that you are content with that? Hmm? I said, I trust that you are content with that?”
“Ooh, sorry Mr McGuire, yes, that’s all fine.”
“I hope you weren’t daydreaming, Williams?”
“Err, no Sir,” said the 18-year-old. It wasn’t entirely true, though. He had been thinking about the appraisal and the resultant caning which was no doubt coming his way. He squirmed in the plastic chair in front of the boss’s desk. That very morning he’d been admiring his splendidly unmarked bottom in the mirror in his lonely bedroom. He had felt a little bit agitated, and a greater bit excited at the prospect. In fact, he’d felt turned on, but didn’t have the time to masturbate. He reasoned with himself that he could do that in the toilets of the office building, after all, and that’s exactly what he did do, soon after arriving for work.
“Now let’s review first the outcomes of your appraisals to date. First appraisal, very unsatisfactory performance led to seven strokes of the office cane on your trousers. Second appraisal six strokes bare. Yes, that one was fun, I remember. Fun for me, at least. You were a trifle embarrassed! Third appraisal, eight strokes bare. Fourth appraisal, ah yes, nine strokes bare. A lot of squealing from you on that last one, yes?”
“Err, yes, sorry about that but you do cane very hard, Mr McGuire, Sir. Much harder than my old headmaster.”
“Yes, I dare say I do, and I gave it some extra heft last time. Still, it’s the only way. It’s got to hurt, to teach a lesson. You’re ready for the full dozen now, I’d suggest. I think we’ll spare you the bare bottom business this time though.”
“Oh no, it’s OK Mr McGuire! I can take it and I probably deserve it. That is on the bare Sir, naked, uncovered, as it were.”
“No lad, my mind’s made up. Anyway, we’re definitely seeing some signs of progress, some good solid sales.”
“It’s not that, Sir. I just believe it’s doing me some good. On the bare.”
“I see. Or perhaps I don’t? You’re not enjoying these canings are you, Williams?”
“Oh no, Mr McGuire, Sir. Of course not. How could anyone? Perish the thought! They really hurt, but I’m sure that they are doing me some good.”
“Hmmm, well alright then. It will be bare then, but only because I’ve no doubt that despite your denials, you are still playing with yourself in the toilets. Someone else mentioned it to me. Might have been young Lyle. Can’t recall. You teenagers are incorrigible. Always got your hands on your penises. My son’s just the same.”
Williams blushed, and then blushed some more. He couldn’t in all honesty deny it. Then he remembered that he’d seen McGuire’s son recently. A big, burly fellow he was. He’d called into the office one evening, just as everyone was leaving. Surely he was not another lad who was subject to the office cane? Or maybe there was a cane or two at home? Williams was becoming obsessed with thoughts about Mr McGuire and his canings.
“Anyway, back to business. Despite the good sales, your childish demeanour and antics in the office have been unwelcome once again. Still being a thorough nuisance to the office girls. They are not your playthings and they don’t welcome your attention. So, overall then, a patchy performance lately. Have you anything to say?”
“Not really, Sir. Other than to say that I’m sorry, sincerely.”
“Very well. Let us see whether a good dose of the rattan will help you along.”
“Bare, Sir, as we agreed?”
“Yes, very bare, my boy. Take everything off!”
“Yes, every last stitch of clothing!”
“Well, it’s after close of business. We shouldn’t be disturbed. You may find it humiliating, but I’ve got no problem with that.”
The lad stripped and created a neat pile of clothes. He hid his underpants under the rest of his clothes, as he didn’t want Mr McGuire to detect the tell-tale spunky whiff they were giving off. All was soon revealed, as Trevor “Willy” Williams had a fine, athletic body. He had a lovely, pert arse. When he bent over, his large bollocks and the tip of his penis could be seen hanging down. It was a body good enough to grace the pages of the specialist magazines Mr McGuire sometimes treated himself to.
“A dozen. A full dozen. Full strength. On your bared posterior,” intoned McGuire solemnly. It was all a facade, however, and he was laughing silently to himself at the lad’s impending shame.
With a solid crack the first stroke landed. Williams could take it. He’d been there before, and he could take it on the bare. Indeed, he didn’t stir at all when the second stroke followed rapidly. The third stroke tested his mettle rather more, and by the time of the fourth stroke he was finding it hard to resist moving and clenching. Indeed, by the time of the fifth stroke his discomfort was such that he made to stand up. But McGuire was having none of it. He pushed the lad back down roughly, shouting, “KEEP STILL!”
The sixth and seventh strokes followed through, with McGuire reassuring the lad with more gentle encouragement to “Keep still, keep still, soon be over.” That wasn’t entirely true, however, as the boss decided to stop for a glass of water. Holding the glass to his mouth, he paused to look at Williams’s arse in more detail. It was pert and inviting, even though it had seven prominent red wheals on display. Just five more strokes to go, McGuire thought to himself, and such a shame that it would then be the end of his jollies for a while. Ah well, it was one of the perks of the job. “Right, lad. Let’s get you beaten!”
“Charming!” Williams though to himself, only to have the train of thought derailed by a sudden trio of harsh, fast cane strokes. They hurt; they really hurt.
“Last two, lad.” McGuire sliced the cane diagonally, left to right and then right to left. Williams almost choked as the pain was all-consuming. He gasped and spluttered, and was trying hard not to cry. “Get up! Trousers and pants up. Now sit down here again, if you can. Now listen. As your sales performance has shown real promise, I’ve decided that you should attend the next National Sales Conference. You will accompany me and I’ll show you the ropes. It’s next month, the 18th to the 20th of June. We’ll be staying at a place near the seafront that I always use. Judy has already got arrangements in hand.”
“But, but…”, Williams was about to object but then he noticed that McGuire was still flexing the cane. He couldn’t take any more caning that evening. “But of course, Sir! That would be terrific!” the lad lied shamelessly.
“Good, good.” McGuire almost purred with pleasure. His devious plan was working well.
Conference time came, and the two men headed to the coast on a less than fast “express train”. At the reception desk of the Cock Inn, Williams could see his boss was shaking his head. Evidently there was a problem.
A stern-looking McGuire address his colleague, “Oh dear, Judy seems to have booked us a double room, instead of two singles. Blasted woman! Accommodation is very hard to find when the Sales Conference is in town. So, there’s no alternative. At least it’s an en suite room. You’ll have to share my bed, I’m afraid.”
Actually it was Williams who should have been afraid. Briefly he considered suggesting that he returned home to the bigger city. He really did not fancy sharing with Mr McGuire, his cheap cigars and beery breath. However, he was keen to hold on to his job and felt he had real potential as a salesman. At least McGuire hadn’t got that damned cane with him, Williams thought. Maybe they would get on better without that disciplinary sanction?
“Let’s go up to the room, lad. By the way, I should also mention that I’ve brought a cane with me, so watch your step.”
“Not the office cane, Sir?”
“Oh no, that wouldn’t fit in my case. It’s another one. I had it specially shortened by one of my old trainee salesmen after I broke it on his arse! Yes, my shortened cane has got your name all over it. If you get my drift? So, you might want to make a good impression on me at the conference. Mix and mingle, get some good contacts and leads. There’s a lot riding on the outcome.”
Later, the two men enjoyed a hearty meal in a local steakhouse, and a quick tour of local alehouses. It was ten o’clock by the time they got back to the inn, and it’s well-stocked bar, and a little later still when they made their way up to the shabby room. McGuire lay on the double bed while his junior salesman was busy in the bathroom.
“You’re not wanking in there, are you Williams?”
“Oh no Sir, just a big job.”
“I don’t need to know that! Show some respect!” boomed McGuire. Such crudeness deserved a caning, he immediately thought to himself. He further thought that if he was right about the lad and his strange urges, he’d welcome a caning before bedtime. The booming pub discotheque downstairs would hide the sound of the well-deserved punishment, as an added bonus.
Williams emerged from the bathroom, by which time McGuire had the shortened cane in his hands, flexing and swishing it with determination. “Your crudeness, disrespect and lack of appreciation for my hospitality has just earned you a caning, my lad.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I suppose I had it coming.”
“Yes, maybe so. Six of the best I think. Now drop your pyjama trousers for the cane.”
Only six, Williams thought to himself, with a touch of disappointment. Still, there was plenty of time for a “top-up” before the conference ended. Or maybe he could provoke his boss into giving him extras? He thought about that some more as he bent over the edge of the bed, bottom now fully bared, and decided it was not a good idea.
With a venomous crack, the first cane stroke landed. It had been almost four weeks since the lad’s last appraisal, and in truth he had craved some more discipline at the hands of his boss. But then to his chagrin, McGuire stopped to relight a half-finished cigar. The acrid smell wafted around the poky bedroom. It was a good couple of minutes before the boss flexed the cane and crashed a second stroke down on Williams’ pert arse. That was more like it, the lad thought to himself. Yes, a real throbber, that one. A third followed, and then a fourth that was harder still. McGuire was having to work closer to his subordinate due to the shorter length of the cane. He steadied his employee by placing his firm hand on the lad’s back as he rapidly inflicted strokes five and six. McGuire had had an up close and personal view of his salesman, and was truly sold on what he’d seen. Six hot red lines decorated the rump before him. Yes, a short but satisfying disciplinary session was now concluded by a hearty slap that the boss landed on his junior’s bare arse.
“Time for bed, lad?”
“I suppose so. I’ll just pull up my pyjamas.”
“That’s really not necessary. I sleep in the nude, young Trevor. I suggest you do the same.”
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.
Story © MMXX by Rod Cayenne. All rights reserved.