Marcus Gains Promotion

MARCUS GAINS PROMOTION By Nigel Dean

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 America then in return exporting to them such classics as the Morris Traveller and MG sports cars. The company achieved a world-wide reputation and banked to my personal account ten times that I earned each month as a humble school teacher.

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.