Corporate Punishment 3/3


by Stroker Al <Letsknf@netscape.net>

Spitzanis waited patiently for the salesman to my right to snap out of his stupor and signal for the spanking to start.  Poor Jerry suddenly looked around in confusion at the others until it sunk in that he was holding everything up.  He leapt, unnecessarily, to his feet and shouted, "Bryson!"

THHHHHHHHWWWWAAACKKKKK!!!! came the first blow.  "Uhh!" I gasped, jolted forward.  My ass cheeks felt cool and tingly for a second and then warmed with a stinging sensation.  My _c_o_c_k_ throbbed and swelled, while Spitzanis paused to admire his handiwork, drumming his fingertips along the reddening stripe he'd raised across my comparatively white butt cheeks.

"Mitchell!" called the next man to Jerry's right.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSWWWWAAACKKKKK!!!!

"Fairbanks!"

THHHHHHWWWWAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKK!!!!

By the third blow with the T square, my ass was really beginning to sting, and I was squirming. I also noticed that most of the other guys had started stroking themselves under the table.  I turned to look back between my legs, past my swinging balls and protruding dick, and sure enough, saw that Spitzanis had set the tone by openly rubbing the long, hard bulge in his own crotch between administering indignant blows.

"Carter!"

SSSSSLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPFFFFFFFF!!!!

"Washington!"         SMMMMMAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!

"Morrison!"

THHHHHHWWWWAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKK!!!!

_d_a_m_n_, that _f_u_c_k_er Spitzanis was really wailing on my ass!  It burned like hell already, and was smarting worse with every powerful slap of that flexible T square.  It began to hurt all the worse because of the sharp-edged plexiglass from the other side, which,  protruding a good quarter inch wider than the soft wooden surface on either edge, was making painful contact with my increasingly tender butt cheeks.

"Thomas!"

SSSCCHHHHHLLLLLAAAAAAMMMMMMPPPPPPP!!!!!!

"Muramoto!"

KRRRRRAAAAAAAACCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!         "O'Shea!"         SMMMMAAAAAAAACCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!

Ai! Madre de Dios, my beaten butt was hurting!  Who the hell did Spitzanis think he was, spanking my naked ass in front of all my coworkers like I was some naughty pre-teen brat?  It was outrageous!  I wasn't going to let it go on for another second!  I......

"Kumar!"

SLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!

OH _f_u_c_k_, this was humiliating!  I was starting to whimper like a baby, like my father got me to do so often as a kid, and I could tell Spitzanis was loving it, 'cause he started whipping me harder. Meanwhile, the other men were either becoming bolder or just more reckless, because I noticed that virtually all of them had whipped out their stiff _c_o_c_k_s and were stroking openly as they watched me get my punishment.  I hoped their god_d_a_m_n_ed EELSKINS were crushing every pair of their little yes-man balls, the assholes! I couldn't blame them, though, because it wasn't every day that they would get to see such a good looking, young and proud Latino like me submitting to such treatment.

"Hernandez!"

SWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

"Barber!"         SSSSSSSSSLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!

I was practically bawling by then, and, when I could, was fisting my own dick--half for security and half for horniness.  By mercilessly whipping my bared butt and making a show of it, my Olympian god of a boss was on one hand infantilizing me, while simultaneously stimulating the manliest responses imaginable in my groin.  I could feel both my life-long adoration of champions and my ambition to always be the best at everything I did pairing up together to drive home Spitzanis' brutal, primordial lesson as deeply as if they were the muscular legs of a surrendering supine lover wrapped tightly around his conqueror's ass.

"Reichart!"

SSSHHHHHLLLLLAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!!!

"Spinelli!"

CCCCRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCKKKKKK!!!!!!!

Perhaps it was partly due to lightheadedness from all that stress, but suddenly I was struck by the conviction that Spitzanis really loved us all, and loved me specially, just the way my father Alejandro had, brutal though he'd been on me with the razor strap during my childhood when I would _f_u_c_k_ up unnecessarily.  Both of them would have explained their love by saying that they wanted me to be become even better than they were, but neither would have admitted to the additional kind of love that had given them both erections while punishing me.  The beauty of some male rituals, I now understood, transcended all societal taboos.

I had lost count of the blows and so was free to revel in the newfound love of my father and my mentor, and the pleasure it gave me merged effortlessly with the exquisite pain of my beating, like a fist into a glove. My upright _c_o_c_k_ throbbed and spasmed against my belly, and I gasped, sensing the approach of my climax. Spitzanis snapped his fingers and indicated a deep, heavy ceramic dish in the middle of the table that was half full of chalky, pale green mints, and instantly the salesman who was nearest to it shot it across the polished wood surface towards the boss like a hockey puck on ice. Spitzanis positioned the dish under my heaving stomach, just beneath the swollen head of my dick. Then, breathing rather heavily himself, he got back into position to administer to me the final blows of my punishment.

"Nemmers!"

SSSSLLLLLLLLAAAAAAPPPPP!!!!

"Colson!"

SMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!!

Dios Mio!  No man had ever made me hurt so bad. In this respect Spitzanis was the exact opposite of Dennis (who only knew how to make me feel good), and even in a worse way than my father.   I was going to have welts all over my ass for weeks.  What would Dennis say when he saw them? I gasped again and again and then cried out as my earthshaking ejaculation commenced, and I attempted, while still getting spanked, to guide the big, hot spurts of semen into the mint dish, since that was clearly what Spitzanis seemed to want.

"Porter!"

SCCCHHHHLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!         "Li!"         SSSMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

When my semen flow finally stopped (though my tears continued), I heard someone slide the mint dish out from under me, presumably at Spitzanis' command, and I collapsed flat out onto the table top in exhaustion.

All around the table, salesmen were groaning and splattering their own loads across their now expendable meeting agenda sheets, but I didn't really pay much attention.  As soon as I felt the strength, however, I lifted and turned my head to look over my shoulder at the only man whose reaction to this demonstration I truly cared about. The eyes I searched for were closed in physical exertion as Spitzanis rapidly stroked his jutting dick with one hand and roughly twisted one of his large, gray-furred nipples with the other. His shaved balls had been lifted out just over the front of his EELSKINS but were contracting tightly from the apparent approach of his own orgasm.

Just before Spitzanis opened his eyes, I beheld, in the mirror behind him, the sight he was about to see:  me, Carlos Rodriguez, the top sales rep of the most successful aquatic sportswear company in the world, spread-eagled and naked on my stomach, my slender, athletic, light-brown limbs and broad back still trembling from the spasms of orgasm and lingering pain. Most humiliating of all--far more so than the sight of my once cream-colored, near-perfectly formed butt completely striped over with layers of angry red welts--was my now almost purple, tear-streamed face, punctuated by a pair of still welling, deep-set brown eyes that revealed an almost heartbreaking level of submissiveness. The formerly tough-looking, sharply trimmed black mustache and goatee surrounding my pouting, swollen lips now looked as phony and theatrical as if I'd become one of those Soap Opera Digest cover boys.

Spitzanis opened his eyes, saw all of this and moaned, squeezing his hard _c_o_c_k_ tightly at the base of its shaft.  Without pausing to rationalize, I swiveled my body around on the slick surface of the table until my face was only an inch or two away from his dick head.  If I'd needed to, I would have reached out to take the champion's penis in my own hand, but the big boss freely obliged my unspoken desire by directing the aim of his ejaculation towards my open mouth, even as he shouted in ecstasy. Like a pay raise, this was sweeter, I think, to receive without having to ask for it.

Lob after lob of the Olympian's hot, ostensibly ambrosial dick honey spurted across the narrow, narrow gulf that remained between us, most of which I caught on my extended tongue, tasted its remarkable bitterness, and swallowed.  The rest I licked from my moustache and chin and from the surface of the table edge as Spitzanis collapsed back into his leather chair.

"Gentlemen,"  he finally said, after a minute or two of us all just catching our breath in silence, "we've just witnessed the good sportsmanship of a true champion.  Let's give a hand," he started to say and stopped, smirking. "Er, let's have a round of applause for the top salesman in EELSKINS' 20 year history, Carlos Rodriguez!"

As I climbed down from the table, I beamed at the sound of all that sticky-fingered clapping coming from my ordinarily smug colleagues, because I could tell it was the first genuine expression of good will they'd made toward me in months. They were still in awe of me, but no longer jealous, I reasoned.         As I collected my clothes, Spitzanis got up from his chair again.  "Wait a second, Carlos," he said, peeling his EELSKINS down the rest of the way and, for the moment, naked as I was, he handed them to me with pride.  "You'll need these."         I reached out to take them, envisioning the Sistine Chapel image of Adam receiving the touch of life from the fingertips of God the Father, but stopped. My nuts had suddenly started to ache.         "Thank you, Sir," I told him. "I'm very grateful for the gesture.  But I could never wear that pair of EELSKINS and do them the justice that you do. If it's all right with you, Sir," I said, reaching for my pants, "I'll freeball it for the rest of the day...and maybe for the next week or two, just until I burn off this fat."

Spitzanis held the suit out to me for a few seconds more while searching my eyes for any sign of insincerity before he graciously and respectfully nodded his assent.

We both got dressed again and then returned to our places at the table. The meeting continued for another 10 minutes or so of more mundane business before we adjourned and returned to our regular work. As we rose from the table to leave, Spitzanis made a parting remark to try to solidify the lesson he had hoped to teach us.         "Guys, I hope the example I made of Carlos today--as well as the example he made of himself--will not have been for nothing.  I hope all of you will all emulate the sportsmanlike behavior and champion qualities of Mr. Rodriguez whenever and wherever you get an opportunity. That way we'll always make a winning team."  

Having said all he had to say, Spitzanis selected one of the darker, wetter-looking mints from the dish in front of him, and with a brilliant touch of fake casualness, flipped it into his mouth.

My shock and amusement at this slyly manful gesture was only exceeded when I got to watch my _c_o_c_k_y sales colleagues follow suit one by one as they filed out of the room, each man reaching into the dish for his own wet and sticky mints to pop into his mouth. Spitzanis just leaned back in his chair chewing up his mint and smiling.

The same _d_a_m_n_ed mints had always been there in the meeting room, but before today I'd never seen any of my diet-obsessed colleagues help himself to a single one.  As the last man to file past the big boss, I was offered proof that greater teamwork in the sales department had already begun: not a single mint left in the dish that Spitzanis was tipping towards me bore a trace of my voluminous ejaculation. Surely that meant that more than a couple of the guys had eaten two or three of the mints I'd jizzed. I was content to select one of the remaining plain ones which, ironically, I hoped would remove a lingering bitter taste from my own mouth.

"Hmmm.  Unlike Mr. Grant on the Mary Tyler Moore show, your boss seems to LIKE spunk, " Dennis observed. "Though I don't particularly remember YOU liking it, Carlos."

My face reddened with shame and I hung my head in anticipation of a an onslaught of recriminations. But that was all the commentary Dennis had for me after hearing the whole story.  I was expecting him to be furious with me for eating another man's load, regardless of whether I liked it or not. But he never brought it up again, and the incident doesn't seem to have affected our relationship adversely.

I'm back to swimming regularly, and am actually in better shape than before.  I never did go back to wearing EELSKINS under my clothes, though, and no one has given me any grief about it.  My sales figures have actually increased, believe it or not.  Instead of excusing myself to find a dressing room just because I've got nothing on under my pants, now I just remind the store managers that "it's okay, we're all guys" before I strip naked and put on a pair of EELSKINS to model for them.

Since I'm swimming 6 mornings a week now, I can eat everything Dennis cooks for me, fearlessly and with great pleasure.  Thank God he's over feeling guilty and is back to cooking all of our favorites!

The hardest part of making the routine work was convincing Denny that _s_e_x_ would be better if we waited till I came home from swimming. I proved it to him a couple times, and now he always lets me go, confident that he'll get to plug me later, just before I have to leave for work.

Lately I really do feel like a champion in just about every way, but I'm not going to stop there. I'm going to be BETTER than that ass-busting ball-breaking _f_u_c_k_er Spitzanis, and I don't mean just in salesmanship, either. I mean in SWIMMING, too. In four years I'm going to go all the way to the Olympics, _d_a_m_n_ it, and I'm going to break every record that manhandling has-been ever made, and he's going to LOVE me for it and be even prouder of me than Dad would have been.

But Dennis cautions me not to get too carried away.  If for some reason I don't quite reach my star, he warns, I need to have a back up plan to triumph over Spitzanis in some other, easier way.

Oh yes, Babe.  I've got one.  Like I'm always telling the other guys, "One way or another, I'm going to whip that man's ass 'til he cries."

(end part 3 of 3)


More stories by Stroker Al