“Ferk off, let me go, you can’t do this to me.”
Mr Fowler-Watt grimaced and took a firmer hold of the teenager, “What do you mean… can’t? I’m doing it, aren’t I?”
Terry, the 18-year-old office junior, wriggled but couldn’t stop his feet slipping on the carpet as his boss dragged him across the office.
“It’s what you deserve, young man’ Mr Fowler-Watt said sharply. “You’ve been asking for this for a long time.” He took a grip of the boy’s left earlobe. “You’ve been disrespectful and rude. And you’re bone idle. Now, to cap it all, I find you’ve been stealing…”
Terry struggled but Mr Fowler-Watt’s grip was tight. “It wasn’t much,” he whined, “just a bit of petty cash. Nothing really. Oh… let me go… Please let me go!”
“It’s not the amount, it’s the principle,” the boss huffed. The youngster was strong but Mr Fowler-Watt was no slouch; he still turned out every weekend for the rugby club. He got hold of Terry’s belt buckle and started to undo it.
“No…oooo! Don’t you dare!” Terry screeched. “I’ll go to the police. This… this is indecent assault.”
“Pah!” his boss laughed mirthlessly. ‘Yes, let’s go to the police shall we. Let’s tell them that you are a thief. Do you really want a criminal record? We’d have to sack you then. What would your mother say? She’d die of shame.”
“You can’t … you can’t,” Terry wailed as the front of his trousers opened.
“Listen, young man, you keep telling me what I can’t do… but I’m doing it!.” Mr Fowler-Watt gave a yank on the trousers and they slithered to Terry’s shins revealing his tight dark-blue briefs and the top of his thighs.
Terry struggled and kicked but his boss had the advantage. He had wanted to do this for so long.
“I…I’ll get you for this!’ the boy wheezed, struggling even more furiously. But Mr Fowler-Watt had twice his strength and there was no way Terry was going to break free. No way he was going to escape a damn good spanking either.
‘Oh. I don’t think you will,” the boss let go of Terry’s ear, then sat on a chair and in one flowing movement he had the wretch facedown across his knee. “Gerroff! No, you can’t,” the protests continued.
“Be quiet!” Mr Fowler-Watt snapped, “Do you want the entire office to know you’re getting your bottom spanked?”
‘Bastard, you bastard,” Terry wriggled and writhed but his boss grabbed the boy’s right arm and held it across his own back. Now, he was pinned down staring at the floor. “Let go, let go! You pervert!,” he roared.
Mr Fowler-Watt spoke calmly, “Spanking a young thief’s bottom doesn’t make me a pervert. It’s something that has been done for centuries. It’s just that it’s gone out of fashion lately.” He cupped the palm of his right hand, raised it and hammered it across Terry’s right buttock with considerable force. The boy gasped and wriggled some more. “Stop it, stop it! You won’t get away with this.”
His boss grinned, “It looks like I am,” he said to himself and pounded the palm of his hand across Terry’s backside. The boy had been at Tillotson’s less than three months but it hadn’t taken long for him to gain the reputation as a cheeky, disrespectful lad. Mr Fowler-Watt blamed the schools, there was no discipline these days. Kids could do as the wanted. They had no respect for their teachers. Or their parents. Or their bosses. Bring back the cane, Mr Fowler-Watt believed.
His hand was huge and Terry’s bottom relatively small. He was a shortish lad, thin and wiry, unlike so many youngsters today who looked like tubs of lard. Mr Fowler-Watt’s hand sank into what little flesh Terry had on his bum. In no time the boss had toured the circuit, spanking each cheek from high to low. His hand travelled from the top of the mounds, over the crests of the hills and into the soft undercurves. Then for good measure he started on the back of Terry’s bare thighs. That set the boy hollering.
“Be quiet,” Mr Fowler-Watt scolded. “I’ve never come across a lad like you. Can’t even take a little spanking without a fuss.”
“Get off, let me go,” Terry was breathless but still he kicked his legs and struggled against his boss’s grip.
Mr Fowler-Watt sighed as if he carried the burdens of the whole world on his shoulders. “If you don’t stop all this, I’m going to take down your underpants. Then we’ll see how you like that.”
“Don’t you dare!” Terry screamed and kicked and twisted ever more frantically. “Let me go! Let me go!”
Mr Fowler-Watt smiled, “Well you can’t say you weren’t warned.” Gently he took hold of the elasticated waist of Terry’s briefs. “Down they come,” he jeered. The first tug exposed the top of the pert mounds and the start of Terry’s crack. “Nooooo!” the boys protested. Mr Fowler-Watt tugged some more. “Lift up,” he commanded, meaning that Terry should move his body off his boss’s lap to enable him to take the pants all the way down to his knees.
Fat chance of that happening. Instead Mr Fowler-Watt had to tug more fiercely and centimetre by centimetre he exposed the eighteen-year-old’s buttocks. He gave a final pull and they slipped to Terry’s knees.
“You bastard! I… h-hate you!”
“You’ll hate me a lot more before long,” the boss smirked and he walloped Terry’s left cheek. Both buttocks were already a rosy pink but Mr Fowler-Watt was delighted to see an imprint of his hand glowering where it had just struck. Encouraged, he made another one on the right cheek. Oh yes, he thought, this is a bottom crying out to be spanked.
Up went his hand and then with intervals of no more than a couple of seconds he spanked first one cheek then the other. He walloped hard and methodically, beginning at the top of the bum and working down to the thigh-tops.
The boy yelled and struggled. He squirmed and kicked as each stinging slap cracked into his naked flesh. His thighs splayed, his head butted up and down and then shook from side to side. Mr Fowler-Watt did not pause, he just took a firmer hold on the boy’s waist and rained down smack after smack. What a lovely sound his descending hand made as it hit the soft flesh.
Terry gasped, he couldn’t catch his breath. His head was spinning. Tears welled in his eyes then trickled down his face. “Stooo…oopppp! Ohhh… ooowwww… stoooop… oh please stop!” He was utterly humiliated. Mr Fowler-Watt did not stop. He was enjoying himself too much. Spanking the bottom of the loutish office junior very hard indeed was even more pleasurable than he had imagined. It was marvellous to make him twist and squirm. From now on Terry would behave. And if he did not? Well, Miss Kingsley, the office secretary, had a large hairbrush that could be pressed into service.
Mr Fowler-Watt had not been counting. How many slaps had he delivered across the boy’s bare bottom? One thing he did know was that Terry’s bum was hot to touch and his own hand was stinging. So what! He was a man on a mission. Slap! Slap! On and on. First one cheek, then the other. He worked down the curving bottom one more time.
“Stoooo…oooppp… I can’t take any m-more!” Terry howled. His distress encouraged his boss. The pain in his palm was becoming intolerable but he determined to go on. It would be far worse for the boy who was now openly sobbing.
Two dozen more on each cheek, Mr Fowler-Watt resolved and carried on spanking. By now Terry’s bum was the colour of a summer sunset.
When at last it was over, Terry lay sobbing weakly but uncontrollably. He could feel the heat rising from his flesh.
“Stand up,” Mr Fowler-Watt wheezed, he was as breathless as the spanked boy across his knee. Terry jumped to his feet and stared daggers at his boss: if looks could kill. He bit back the desire to call his boss all the names under the sun. He did not yet realise it but he had learnt a valuable lesson in life. Some people had power and others did not. Mr Fowler-Watt had all the power, Terry had none. His boss could spank Terry’s backside anytime he wished, Terry would never be able to do the same.
Sorrowfully, he pulled up his underpants and trousers. The throb in his bottom was already easing into a tingling ache. Soon it would be gone for good. The pain might go but the sense of helplessness and humiliation would stay with the boy for ever. With a scowl on his face he left the office to return to his work.
Picture credit: Sting Pictures
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