Warren Hobbs was not a happy man: he was looking for his nephew, Nigel.
Nigel was working with his uncle in the gap year of his degree course and having an uncle as the head of a large department of a large multi-national had proved handy in him getting a placement. Warren remembered it as usually being a bit of a scramble for the students. While the lad was proving good at the work, he was at times a bit too fond of reminding people of who he was and his uncle's nepotism, added to which he had been late every day so far this week. Thus Warren realised he needed to have a serious talk with his nephew.
The age gap wasn't so great between them, given that Nigel was the only child of his eldest brother, who was a good twelve years older than Warren. He was almost like an older brother to Nigel, except that he hadn't seen all that much of him once he left home for college. Nigel had grown to a six-foot-something, strapping fellow, somewhat taller and broader than Warren, who was himself slimmer, but still well built. They are also shared the family resemblance in hair and eyes, so in the past they had mistakenly been taken for brothers on more than one occasion.
They had managed to find Nigel a desk, but one that was a touch secluded really due to desks being at a premium – many of the part-timers were 'hot-desking'! – and it was to this that he headed.
Turning the corner of the cubicle-board he found Nigel sat at his desk engrossed in a magazine and with his back to any visitors. Warren was startled to see both the nature of the magazine and to see his nephew's hand bouncing energetically above his groin, eyes lost in happy concentration.
Nigel was wanking off to a porno mag.
"Nigel!" exclaimed Warren. Nigel swivelled round in his chair and stood up in alarm, and in doing so presented his uncle with _d_a_m_n_ing evidence of his activities, a hot, wet hard-on jutting out of his trousers. The pair stood there looking at each other for about five seconds. Warren, hands on hips and a look of seething astonishment, stared at Nigel, whose respectable business-image of three-piece suit, double-cuff shirt and silk tie was spoilt by the rude, eight-inch long bobbing boner, shining dark helmet slick with pre-cum, dangling forwards out of his unfastened pants and his face beetroot.
"My office now!" ordered Warren, snatching the magazine from him.
"I am shocked by your behaviour, Nigel Hobbs," stated Warren, once they were shut into the privacy of his office, "I do not expect any of my employees, least of all my nephew, to be reading this sort of thing at work!"
Nigel, stood with hands in pockets, shrugged his shoulders "Look, I'm sorry....."
"Don't be so _c_o_c_k_y – masturbating at you desk is not the done thing. If you must behave like a frustrated thirteen year-old in the school toilets you shouldn't be here! Added to which your attitude to timekeeping leaves a lot to be desired as well my boy."
"Uncle...."
"Don't 'Uncle' me, Nigel. I knew to expect a risk of some sort taking you on as a placement student, but I never guessed it would be like this!"
"Sorry Warren...." muttered Nigel again
"Take you hands out of your pockets!" Warren snapped. "I'm sorry but I have no alternative but to dismiss you." He couldn't help but notice that the flies of his nephew's trousers were only partially fastened up, the zip pulled halfway up over the still present bulge of his erection.
"Please Uncle Warren...."
"I'm sorry Nigel, but this is a severe disciplinary offence! Thank your lucky stars it was me who caught you jacking off and not anybody else, or it would be all over the office by now!"
"Please don't sack me Uncle!" the lad begged, unpleasantly surprised by this turn of events.
"Well I'm not sure what else I can do other than dismiss you....."
Dare he punish his nephew as he had punished others? Well, the alternative for the lad being dismissed by his uncle and the reasons for that dismissal would quickly become known at work, college and at home. He could spank Nigel, and indeed he would!
"....the only other alternative is for me to punish you here and now, privately, and exact your promise never to misbehave again."
"Err.... what sort of punishment did you have in mind?" asked Nigel, loosening his tie a little more
"The traditional sort of course: I'll give you an over-the-knee spanking."
"A spanking?" parroted Nigel, startled by this announcement, "but I'm too...."
"Too old?" finished Warren, "You're never too old for a spanking my boy and besides," he continued solemnly, staring across his desk at the shamefaced young man, "if you will behave like a pubescent brat who can't control his hormones you should be punished like a pubescent brat!"
"But....spanking?"
"The alternative is dismissal. Do you agree to my proposal Nigel?" Please agree Nigel!
A moment's thought: "Okay. You can spank me."
"Good. This is a much better solution. Now take off your jacket and get across my lap young man!"
Nigel obeyed, placing his jacket on his uncle's desk. Warren rose from behind his desk and moved to one of the chairs in front that did not have armrests, so allowing the penitent to position himself correctly. Warren could not help smile at this scenario: the tall and stocky Nigel going across the lap of his slighter-framed uncle. If Ben - Warren's PA - came in he would find it a very agreeable sight. Indeed so would any of Nigel's other co-workers who'd grown tired of the lad playing on his role of boss's nephew. It would have made quite an amusing tableau!
Nigel settled himself across Warren's own pin-striped legs, his head almost touching the floor; he was not exactly comfortable about being spanked, but knew that if it saved his placement, then the embarrassment of a boy – rather a man – being spanked would be worthwhile. Warren gazed down at Nigel's behind in his grey pinstripe trousers. The fabric was stretched nicely taut across the two plump moons, just waiting to be touched in whichever way he chose. He recollected Nigel across his lap some five or six years ago, when he was seventeen, or thereabouts, and was in his oh-so-smart and proper school uniform.....
Warren had been attending a family gathering and Nigel had been larking around. In mock annoyance Warren put him across his lap and told him he was a "very, very, naughty, naughty boy" with a couple of light-hearted but firm smacks on his behind, with good humoured encouragement from on-looking relatives. Even then Nigel's was a chunky athletic behind in those archetypal grey "flannel" school-trousers, snug-fitting enough for the line of a lad's underwear to be just detectable, and with razor-sharp creases from leg-bottom to bottom.
There were razor sharp creases on these trousers, acting like guiding lines to the target Warren was about to attack, and the weight of a handsome male body across him was already warm and exciting for Warren!
"I've never been spanked Uncle...." announced Nigel
"Well it cannot come a moment too soon then," said Warren, dispelling any hopes of mercy, "if I'd put you across my knee and slippered your impish arse till it was purple a couple of times when you were younger perhaps you wouldn't have become such a spoilt brat!"
That would have been a sight to see: Warren putting naughty schoolboy Nigel across his lap for real, perhaps, even, at that family occasion. Naughty Nigel squirming with his chunky teenage backside bared for all to see as his trousers and [spunk-stained?] underpants tangled round his ankles and his gaudy green school-blazer and crisp white shirt-tail were pushed away for a ruthlessly sound spanking from his 'favourite' uncle! With such a buttock-smarting spanking would have been the added humiliation of his blooming pubes being seen. Oh how degrading a punishment it would have been for the lad....!
"Please.... be gentle Uncle."
"I'll be as gentle as I see fit Nigel, so plead no more." Warren stroked the smart suit fabric, felt the masculine warmth of the flesh beneath, and fondled each cheek with an air of professionalism, happy in anticipation of what he was about to do. The older Nigel would find this punishment as degrading as the schoolboy would have, Warren was sure.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Nigel yelped as Warren applied the full weight of his hand to the youth's arse
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Nigel cried out again. The muscles in his behind had contracted tightly against the battering.
"Will you be quiet lad. Can't you take your punishment like a man?"
"Sorry sir...."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Warren could feel Nigel's bottom heating up nicely under the suit-pants.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Hopefully this will teach you behave in a responsible adult way in future!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"I'll thrash you like you've never been thrashed before!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"You should have been many times before if what I've heard is true. Many a time you've deserved your trousers and y-fronts being taken down in front of everybody and your bare behind roasted!"
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Stand up please Nigel," said Warren, suddenly stopping his endeavours. His nephew did so breathing a sigh of welcome relief; one hand drifted to his bottom, and gave a very tentative rub.
"Your punishment isn't over yet Nigel," smiled Warren, aware that his nephew thought his ordeal at an end, "I don't think that paltry spanking has taught you your lesson yet."
"But Uncle Warren...." whined Nigel, at a loss to make any better defence. There was still a licentious-looking bulge in the front of his pants, which he coyly tried to hide. His uncle shook his head in dismay.
"Stop whining and assume the position." Warren ordered. Nigel looked at him blankly, and his uncle sternly added: "Bend over my desk please."
Nigel did as he was told, bending over the desk, his arms before him. Warren watched him vigilantly: he saw the expensive pale blue shirt in the resulting gap between the top of his trousers and the bottom of his waistcoat, and his flashy red braces keeping his trousers nicely taut.
Such an enticing sight.....
Warren took a ruler from a drawer in his desk and, standing close to his nephew, wielded it across his arse.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Nigel heard the wood swish through the air and then felt the pain resume.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
He yelped, and his hands went to the defence of his butt.
"Move your hands immediately, boy!"
"But it really hurts Uncle Warren!" griped Nigel, standing up and rubbing his rear.
"It is meant to," he tutted. Warren promptly took hold of Nigel's partially loosened tie and undid it completely and pulled it from under his shirt collar. Then taking both wrists he bound the tie around them and tied it before pushing his nephew back down, his stomach flat against the desk.
"Your feeble attempt to save yourself has only earned you a harsher punishment Nigel."
"Please, no....." moaned Nigel, dreading what was about to happen next.
"You deserve it my boy," his uncle declared. To Nigel's consternation Uncle Warren stood directly behind him and, in a surprising development, began unzipping and unbuttoning his helpless nephew's trousers!
"Uncle Warren.... please....." Nigel bleated fearfully. Then Uncle Warren nimbly unclipped his braces! Nigel felt his trousers upsettingly slip a little from his waist.
"Don't take my pants down Uncle Warren," entreated Nigel, "You can cane me all you like with my trousers up, can't you?"
"Sorry Nigel, but naughty disobedient boys always get their trousers taken down for spanking." Warren took hold of the waistband of Nigel's nice smart pinstripe trousers; he knew so well that worse for a lad than a spanking was a trousers-down spanking. He gave them a sharp, determined tug downwards.
"Not my trousers Uncle!"
Nigel's trousers fell down his legs, to reveal, to Warren's unhidden amusement, a pair of loud satin boxer-shorts in an exotic leopard-skin print.
"Goodness me Nigel," Warren chuckled, "what are you wearing?" he gave them a stroke, sure that that his nephew's arse-cheeks were as red as his face-cheeks now were. Nigel had indeed had more reasons for his trousers not to come down than some!
"Boxer shorts Uncle Warren...." replied Nigel sullenly.
"Girlie silky drawers more like! Well they are not my idea of business dress - they only look fit for whoring in...." and taking hold of each leg-hole he lowered them to the lad's knees, "....and we'll have no more of that!"
Nigel gave a squeak of shock. His legs were fairly hairy, and the hair carried on up as dark down across his arse-cheeks. It was nevertheless quite obvious that bruising was beginning to rise across a fairly wide expanse of the now bare flesh, and in a colourful variety of hues. The lad's genitals dangled, neglected, between his trembling legs. Warren could almost see Nigel's knees knocking in fear.
No matter how _c_o_c_k_y naughty lads are, or how burly or macho, Warren thought, it's always the same: bent over with their pants down they turn into feeble little wimps. With underwear like Nigel's – and his were not the gaudiest drawers Warren had ever seen on the arse of a lad – they were like feeble girlie schoolboys, waiting in terror for the first blow of the ruler.
"Not without my shorts.... please.... Uncle!" protested Nigel (although such flimsy underwear could have provided only the most inadequate of cushioning), and he looked over his shoulder to see what his uncle was doing. He saw Warren pushing the pale blue shirttail up under his waistcoat, and he caught his first sight of his arse, his twin summits already an unpleasant angry shade of maroon.
The fullest expanse of bad boy's bottom now exposed, Warren took up the wooden ruler from his desk and placing his free hand on the small of Nigel's back, with a -
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
And a -
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Warren applied a searing salvo of ruler-strikes across each cheek in turn.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! – another five strokes on the left cheek. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! – another five strokes on the right cheek.
Nigel gasped in pain and instinctively jerked back his shoulders – his hands if unbound would have dived to the defence of his arse. His eyes watered.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
"Aargh!" yelped Nigel, blinking back tears.
"Be quiet – or do you want somebody to come in and see you?" Warren knew Ben must be back from lunch by now; the potential for him walking in upon him and Nigel gave him something of a thrill.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
"Imagine the shame of somebody coming in and seeing you like this! You - the boss's nephew – getting a pants-down spanking.... the sort of spanking given to a very naughty little boy.... not a man...."
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Nigel was writhing upon the top of Warren's desk in pain, unable to escape this punishment. His uncle held him firmly in place, swinging the ruler with gusto and savouring his own arousal as it developed inside his trousers (which of course were still happily in place and zipped up, unlike Nigel's).
"Oh how your brat-boy bottom must be burning!"
(It was indeed, Nigel wanted to say, burning as if on fire. Hadn't Uncle Warren punished him enough now?)
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
"Your naughty, naughty brat-boy bottom is paying for your bad behaviour."
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Outside Warren's office, Ben the PA approached with a file of papers for Warren, or Mr Hobbs as Ben called him, to see. Just as he was about to knock he heard the next volley of blows, and the series of muffled cries, from behind the door. He took a momentary look around him, saw nobody about, and crouched to peek through the keyhole. The view was quite startling, but confirmed his suspicions: he saw Mr Hobbs with his faithful wooden ruler poised above some well-built lad's naked arse, which was presented full on to the door. Ben winced as each stroke of the ruler landed on those defenceless (but otherwise rather attractive) butt-cheeks, knowing from recent experience what the pain, and the shame, would be like – Mr Hobbs had spanked him (trousers down but underpants up) earlier in the week for not having a report ready.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Then the guy moved his head slightly and Ben realised who it was, trousers down [and loud slinky boxers too] and flat across the desk. It was Nigel, Mr Hobbs's very own nephew! Warren had finally found reason to deal with the brat - and how indeed was he dealing with the arrogant so-and-so!
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Being the boss's nephew certainly wasn't earning Nigel any leniency; Mr Hobbs was laying on the ruler stripes thick and fast, each mound of tortured flesh jiggling slightly from the impact. How Nigel was suffering – just as the snotty little _s_h_i_t_ deserved, thought Ben, with a content feeling of seeing justice done. Nigel's attitude adjustment would be welcome news to the other lads – as would what he wore under his trousers! Some of the guys had said Nigel's behaviour might one day cost his arse and suffice to say to say Nigel's big-naughty-boy arse, quivering in the air, was now looking very, very sore indeed!
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
"Somebody should definitely have done this long ago," mused Warren, seeing the lad's now flaccid prick swinging miserably between his legs.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Ben stood up again after a minute to two more; he had seen as much as he needed to. It was time to announce himself; he patted his suit-covered crotch in satisfaction, feeling its hardness.
A brisk knock came on the office door. Both men jumped a little in surprise; Nigel nearly crapped himself in shock as well, as the door opened partially (so allowing Ben a glimpse of Nigel's horror-struck face looking over his shoulder – what a picture!)
"Mr Hobbs I've—," began Ben cheerily, barely entering the room though.
"One moment please!" announced Warren, who promptly ceased thrashing. The door closed quietly; Nigel's arse-cheeks were a fiery red, with darker, purple and brown patches of angry, inflamed flesh.
"Resume your trousers Nigel," he pronounced, unbinding his nephew's wrists. He watched his nephew wince as the fabric of his boxers clung to the enflamed flesh of his arse. Then came the exquisite torture of his snug-fitting trousers, as they were fastened, and pressed tightly on swollen cheeks. How very distressing for Nigel to sit down for the rest of the day it would be, and how the lad would squirm in distress. It could be most amusing to see how he coped, and suffered.
Nigel re-knotted his tie around his neck, leaving his collar loosened a little. His face was flushed, his hair dishevelled, and he walked with obvious discomfort. Just as he reached the door, Warren said to his nephew
"I expect you to visit me tomorrow lunchtime for a repeat punishment!"
"But....but Uncle!" cried Nigel
"No buts. And you'd better be punctual tomorrow morning or else." Nigel nodded miserably, but comprehending that his uncle meant what he said - unfortunately for him.
"And Nigel, if I have to reprimand you again in any way, you will get the same punishment in front of the office. Do you understand me?"
Nigel nodded sadly.
"Well go back to your desk then. You and Ben have a meeting in ten minutes I believe."
Nigel opened the door and stepped out, almost colliding with the waiting Ben on the threshold. Both apologised to the other, Ben with a curiously smug smile on his cute bespectacled face. Nigel's face went beetroot with shame again.
"Don't forget tomorrow Nigel," said Warren, depositing a certain magazine into his desk drawer. "Ah, Ben it's you. The papers I asked for....?" he continued, his composure still not recovered as he addressed his PA. His face bore the glow of vigorous activity.
"Yes, sir," replied Ben, who glanced knowingly between Warren and Nigel as the latter departed.
Ben must have been listening at the door, thought Warren, how interesting....
Nigel went back to his desk, his head pounding and arse cheeks throbbing from his uncle's idea of a reprimand. Worse than that Ben must have heard, stood outside Uncle Warren's office, what had been happening within and – _s_h_i_t_! – did he see anything as he opened the door? What humiliation! Would Ben say anything to anybody....?
And tomorrow – it didn't bear thinking about - Nigel faced yet more of the same. He was too old to be spanked – wasn't he? The fact that his uncle thought otherwise made his frazzled butt-cheeks clench inside his silky boxers with the sickening horror of anticipation.....