Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2007 12:06:21 -0400
From: Josh Armstrong <josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com>
Subject: Working For Darren - Chapter Three

Working For Darren - Chapter Three

NOTES>> This is the third chapter in the Working For Darren series. *Safe*
sex won't appear in this story all that often, but I trust it appears a lot
in your own lives. *Sex* will appear quite often though, sometimes quite
graphically, and invariably of the gay and BDSM nature, so only read on if
the law of your chosen land allows. The copyright is all mine, subject to
Nifty's rules on the matter.

I hope you like the latest chapter. And don't forget to check my other Nifty
story - 'Contracted To Justin'. As always, any feedback you've got is really
appreciated, positive or critical. Do email -
josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com.

CHAPTER THREE: Waiting for the paddle

By Sunday night I was ready to quit my job. It was true that by mentally
replaying the ass paddling Darren had given me in his office on Friday, and
the way he'd fucked my face later the same day, I had enjoyed some of the
best masturbation I could remember, several times over. But, having very
much exhausted my sexual appetite, by Sunday evening I started to rationally
consider what my boss had said to me on Friday afternoon. The orders he had
given.

He expected me to come into work an hour early each day, to report to his
office, to remove my jacket and shirt, and drop my trousers and boxers so
that my cock and balls were on show for him to see. Then he wanted me to
stand in the corner of his room, like a naughty school boy, with my hands
clasped behind my head, before he called me over to his desk to receive a
brutal ass paddling. Then I'd return to the corner until being dismissed, so
that I could get in a few hours work before returning at one o'clock to
repeat the whole exercise. And then at the end of the day he expected me to
return to his office to pay him for punishing me in that way by opening my
mouth and letting him fuck my throat. And he'd given no indication of how
many days he wanted me to do this - how long this torture would continue -
he'd said 'each morning', not 'on Monday' or 'each morning next week', just
a vague and indefinite 'each morning'.

The more I thought about it, the more wrong Darren's demands seemed to be.
Me downloading porn to my work PC might have been a stupid thing to do, a
bad thing even, but surely it didn't justify this kind of degrading
treatment. Having been made to do all that stuff once - to strip in Darren's
office, to take a paddling to my ass, having been forced to suck Darren's
cock - was bad enough, to suggest I should do the same thing every day for
the foreseeable future was just too much.

All of which meant I was soon starting to think it would be better if Darren
did just report the porn thing to the board. While I'd believed him on
Friday when he'd say they'd definitely fire me, now I was starting to
question his judgment on that. I mean, he'd told me himself on numerous
occasions before Friday what a good employee I was. That would count for
something, surely?

And after all, my predecessor must have been downloading gay porn as well,
because he'd left the links and passwords on the PC I'd been given. If the
IT guys had caught me doing it, surely they would have caught him too. And
what happened to him? Actually, what did happen to him? Who had sat at my
desk prior to me joining the company? I had no idea. Perhaps they had caught
him downloading the porn, perhaps they had fired him, perhaps that's why
there'd been a vacancy for me to fill.

Suddenly I was thinking Darren was possibly right again - if the board found
out I'd been downloading porn on their time and their computers I would be
fired. But if they did, did that really matter? Perhaps Darren had been
right also when he said his dad would stop me getting work elsewhere. But
couldn't I just return to my family's home town and look for work there?
Sure, there'd be nothing anywhere near as good as this job, and it would be
majorly embarrassing to have to return home after having made such a big
deal about getting this job in the first place. But would that be more
embarrassing than stripping for Darren every day, more embarrassing that
letting him paddle my ass in his office, more embarrassing than being made
to suck his big fat cock?

The answer was suddenly blindingly obvious to me. No it wasn't. I'd quit my
job, put Friday's degradation behind me, return home and start over. In fact
I'd email in my resignation right now, that way I'd never have to see Darren
again.

I'd started writing the email, but then my Mum called. I hadn't spoken to
her for a while, and she wouldn't shut up about how proud she was of me
getting this job. She'd seen Sam a few times and he'd told her how well I
was doing and that I was in line for promotion (since when did she and Sam
become such good friends? I'd not known him that well at school), and she'd
said the whole family were now really excited at how quickly I was working
up the hierarchy at my new company.

Shit, how could I let her, and them down? I couldn't. I simply couldn't do
it.

So, I deleted the email, turned off my computer, got an early night and
accepted my fate. My fate at the hands of my boss, Darren. I'd grin and bear
it. Surely he couldn't expect to keep punishing me for too many days, could
he?

Which is how I found myself in the far corner of my boss' office again, my
jacket and shirt removed, my pants and boxers down round my ankles. With my
hands behind my head the tight t-shirt I'd worn under my shirt lifted
slightly, meaning anyone in the office could get a perfect view of my
slightly bruised ass. And in front of me, my stiff hard dick stuck up from
my groin, throbbing slightly as I felt the breeze of the air con brush
against it. How the hell did standing here like this turn me on so much?

I'd got up an hour earlier than normal and arrived at work at eight on the
dot. Actually, I'd worried I might be a bit late, because as I was leaving
my apartment I'd realized I wasn't wearing those filthy boxer shorts that
Darren had made use as a cum rag on Friday, and which he'd told me to wear
to work. I'd had to rush back to my bedroom, get them out of the pocket of
the jacket I'd worn on Friday, and put them on. Which wasn't easy, because
my cum had dried while they were all crumpled up in my pocket - they were
all kind of stuck together. I'd managed to get them straight, whip off my
shoes, trousers and the clean boxers I'd been wearing, and put the scummy,
cummy dirty ones on instead. I could still smell the faint smell of stale
cum even once I'd put my trousers on. I hoped to God no one else would. It
didn't help that, having had to go back to change my boxers, I had to rush
to work, literally running to the metro station I used, and then from the
station nearest my office to the office building itself. By the time I got
to work those boxers were really sweaty as well as cummy.

I was the first at the office, except for the security guards who worked the
night shift and the cleaners who started at six. They looked a bit confused
that I was in so early, but no one asked any questions, thank God. I could
hardly tell them I'd come in early so my boss could spank my bare ass for
downloading gay porn. I left my bag at my own desk and made my way to
Darren's office.

I knocked a couple of times, but clearly he wasn't in. That didn't surprise
me really, I'd never seen Darren arrive before ten. In fact what had
surprised me a little was that he'd suggested I get in so early in the first
place, though I'd assumed he wanted to get my punishment out of the way
before anyone else arrived. But the fact he wasn't here at eight on the dot
was no surprise and, after all, he'd said that if he wasn't there I should
let myself in. So that's what I did.

I closed the door behind me, and took a moment to scan round his office. It
seemed so stupid doing this - the stripping and all - while no one was here.
It had been degrading to do it when Darren had been watching, but was
somehow worse still in an empty room. But I'd decided on my commute that I
was going to do everything Darren had told me to the letter, that way he
might only go through this charade for a couple of days, and then things
would get back to normal.

So I took off my jacket, tie and shirt and hung them on the hooks by
Darren's door. Then I unbuckled my belt and dropped my trousers, held my
filthy boxers by the elastic waste, and pulled them down too. It occurred to
me that I could have walked to the far corner of the office first, to save
me the embarrassment of walking across the room with my pants round my
ankles and my already hard dick wobbling in front of me. But I mentally
reminded myself 'to the letter' and did everything exactly as Darren had
ordered. After all, no one could see me waddle across Darren's office to
take my place in the corner of his room.

Having convinced myself I could get through this while traveling into work,
the stripping hadn't been as traumatic as I'd expected. I was no where near
as stressed or embarrassed as I'd thought I'd be. Or at least I wasn't for
the first ten minutes I stood there. Had I realized I'd stand there for two
and half hours before Darren even arrived, I'd have probably been very
stressed and very embarrassed. By the time he did finally show up I was more
stressed and more embarrassed than I could ever remember. My face was
burning hot I was blushing so much.

It had been a tortuous two and a half hours - mentally and physically.
Mentally because from 9am onwards I could hear people arriving and chatting
outside Darren's office, and it occurred to me anyone could walk in here at
any time - the office door was, after all, unlocked. The thought of being
degraded in this way in front of Darren was horrible enough, the thought of
anyone else knowing about my secret and perverted punishment ten times more
so. It was physically tortuous because standing up in this way, with my
hands behind my head, for two and half hours solid wasn't easy. You should
try it, with your pants round your ankles of course, my limbs were really
starting to ache by the time Darren finally showed up.

And they continued to do for another half hour more because that's how long
it took my boss to even acknowledge my presence. If I'd been stressed and
embarrassed standing like this on my own for two and half hours, it was
nothing like standing this way with someone in the room pretending you're
not there, even though your naked ass is staring them in the face. Darren
was on his mobile when he'd got into the office, and he made three more
phone calls after that, meaning it was gone eleven before he finally said:
"OK fuck boy, time for your punishment. Take your position".

After standing their for three hours I'd found this weird mental space that
had made the last ten minutes slightly less horrible. But it also meant I
didn't immediately register what he'd said when he spoke. Which was stupid.

"Look fag boy," he shouted, surely loud enough for Lynn outside to hear,
"you're in enough trouble as it is, you really don't want to piss me off,
now take your position, and I'm adding another ten swats for your
insolence."

That time I heard. I span round, giving Darren a clear view of my rock hard
cock for the first time that day, and waddled to the chair by his desk. I
stood about two feet from it, and then bent over and held on to the back of
the chair, like I had on Friday. Darren said nothing, he simply opened his
desk drawer, took out his paddle and walked round behind me.

"OK, forty swats" he said, calmly. And then I heard that horrible swooshing
sound once again, that second long sound that always preceded the
indescribable pain you feel when a paddle hits your ass hard. It had only
been two days but I'd forgot how much this hurt. I screamed. Loud. Not for
as long as I had after the first swat on Friday, but for a good ten seconds.
Darren let me calm down a little before speaking.

"This screaming won't do, this is a workplace. Take off your shoes".

I couldn't work out how taking off my shoes would stop me screaming, but I
thought better of questioning his instructions. I did as he'd ordered.

"Now take off your pants and boxers".

I was still confused, but still wary of questioning his instructions. I
pulled my trousers and boxers off over my feet.

"Now, give me the boxers". I handed them up to him. He held them out and
gave them a good look over. "Nice. I see there's a skid mark here. I don't
remember seeing that on Friday, I think someone didn't wipe very well this
morning. Well, if you don't like wiping, you shouldn't wipe. So I forbid you
from wiping your ass whenever you wearing these boxers. Which is every day.
OK?"

What the fuck was he talking about now? Was he really telling me I couldn't
wipe my ass after shitting? He had to be joking.

"I said OK?" he was shouting again.

"Yes sir" I replied quickly. Still not quite believing what he'd just said.

"OK, resume your position". I did, bent over and leaning on the chair,
though still confused as to why he'd got me to take off my shoes and pants
and boxers. Though only confused for a second or so. Then it became clear
why he'd done that.

"Open wide" he said, having walked in front of me. I did. And then he pushed
the crumpled boxers into my open mouth, completely gagging me. "That should
shut you up".

They wouldn't really fit, but he kept pushing the shorts, until they were
nearly all in my mouth. They immediately soaked up my saliva, making my
mouth really dry, but worse than that was the taste - the mix of stale cum
and fresh sweat. But he was right, they did shut me up. He really went to
work on my ass, giving me a much more severe paddling than on Friday -
something I'd have not thought was possible - plus of course this time I was
getting forty swats. I was shaking and sweating and whimpering throughout
the punishment, such was the incredible pain he was unleashing on my ass,
but I didn't make any sounds that would be anywhere near audible outside the
office. Despite the horrible texture and taste of the boxers in my mouth, in
some ways that pleased me. And, despite the horror and pain of the beating,
I couldn't fail to notice that throughout my dick remained as hard as ever.

"OK, put your boxers, pants and shoes back on, but don't pull the pants or
boxers up. Then go stand in your corner, I think you need a little time to
contemplate your punishment".

I did as he ordered, though bending over to put on my pants and shoes, and
then standing up to waddle back to my corner, all made my burning ass even
more sore. And the pain seemed to get even worse still as I stood in the
corner with my pants and boxers round my ankles. Plus the mental anguish
returned. Somehow the intense embarrassment of this degrading activity went
away during the actual paddling, but it returned worse that ever once I was
back in the corner of the room. He left me there in that situation for
another half hour, before finally saying: "OK shit face, fuck off out of
here, but make sure you're back at one on the dot".

I said "thank you sir" then waddled back to his door. I was about to put my
shirt on when he spoke again. "Actually, I don't like you wearing that
t-shirt under your shirt like that. Take it off and throw it over". I didn't
think it could get any worse. I took off my tee and threw it to him. He
caught it, and immediately threw it into his waste basket.

Now I was completely naked except for the boxers and pants round my ankles.
Somehow it felt ten times worse. Darren stared at my naked body for about a
minute. I suppose I could have started putting my shirt and jacket on
straight away, reducing the time he'd have me here naked, but somehow I
became transfixed by his stare. Until he said "OK, gay boy, get dressed and
get back to work. I'm not paying you to stand there and show off your excuse
of a dick". This made me blush a new. I quickly put on my shirt and tie (not
an easy task when you're as stressed as I was). Then I put on my jacket and,
at last, got to pull up my boxers and trousers.

For the first time in over four hours my dick was covered up again. Though
my boxers were damp from the saliva they had soaked up while stuffed in my
mouth, making it feel a little like I'd wet myself. Which ensured that my
embarrassment continued as I left Darren's office, even if the people around
me didn't know why I was blushing so much. Still, the damp boxers actually
felt very erotic against my rock hard dick. Very erotic. I couldn't remember
my dick being so hard. I simply couldn't see how I could get any work done
while I was feeling so horny.

So I did something bad.

I went to the disabled toilet, locked the door, pulled down my pants and
boxers, and wanked myself ferociously. It took only a minute or so before I
was cumming. Load after load of cum spurted out of my dick, directed into
the toilet bowl. It felt awesome. Of course once I was done I felt a bit
guilty, but I started rationlising with myself again. Darren hadn't said I
couldn't wank after receiving my punishment, so I wasn't disobeying any
orders. And there was no way anyone would ever know. And it did mean I was
in a much better frame of mind for working. I didn't see how I'd done
anything wrong. The fact that what Darren had done to me got me so horny in
the first place bothered me a little, but I resolved not to think about that
too much.

I was still in rationalizing mode when I got back to my desk. I decided I
could do this. My ass was still on fire, and hurt even worse when I sat
down, but I was able to tolerate it. I'd tolerated it all. All I had to do
was go through that same thing a few more times and surely Darren would be
done with the punishment and I could get back to normal. Of course I'd still
have to suck him off a few times too but, though I'd never have admitted it
to anyone, I'd quite enjoyed sucking him on Friday. I didn't like the
choking, but perhaps I'd get better at taking his dick with practice, and if
I got better perhaps he would be more gentle with me. Whatever, what was
important, was I could do this.

All of which meant that when I returned to Darren's office, not much more
than an hour after my first punishment of the day, I wasn't anywhere near as
fearful as I had been last time. Until, that is, I entered his office.

There was someone in there with him. A guy called Mike, who worked a few
desks down from me. They were obviously having a meeting. Hadn't Darren
thought of that before telling me to come here at one? Perhaps the meeting
was overrunning.

"Oh, I'm sorry" I said, blushing red again, "I didn't realize... I'll call
back later".

"No no," Darren replied, "you've got important stuff to do, you go ahead,
don't mind us".

At first I thought he'd got all confused. Forgotten why it was I was here.

"No, no, it doesn't matter, I can come back, I..."

"No, Josh, what you've got to do is important, you won't do it later, you'll
do it now". He was talking very seriously. Not shouting as such, but he
clearly didn't want to debate this.

But he couldn't want me to strip in front of Mike, could he? I mean 'what I
had to do' was lose my jacket and shirt, drop my boxers and pants, and stand
naked in the corner until Darren felt like paddling my ass. That wasn't the
kind of thing I could do in front of another colleague. For a brief
foolishly optimistic moment I still thought he was confused. Which meant I
paused.

"Look, fag boy, if you're not naked in ten seconds I'll give your ass fifty
swats, then I'll have Mike here do the same again on your balls, is that
what you want?"

Shit, I didn't want that. But I didn't want to strip naked, to reveal my
dick, my balls and my already paddled red ass to this workmate. But clearly
I had no choice on that.