Newsgroups: alt._s_e_x_.stories,alt._s_e_x_.spanking
From: an151170@anon.penet.fi (...Mercury....)
X-Anonymously-To: alt._s_e_x_.stories,alt._s_e_x_.spanking
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an151170@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sun, 18 Jun 1995 18:32:36 UTC
Subject: Late! (M/m spanking)
z Another erotic story extracted from the vast archives of
z
z ... /\/\ e r c u r y ...
z
z Proud Purveyor of Pornoverby!
z
z Notes :
z
z 1. I did not write this story;
z 2. I do not know the author;
z 3. If you like it, tell me so, but don't ask for sequels;
z 4. Why not post a story yourself?
z 5. Are you a biW/A m/f 18-24 looking for friends? Hmm? Write.
z 6. Vote in the next election and run the Coalition out!
z 7. Enjoy life while you can, because you're going to DIE!

Away from the job, he was an incorrigible tease. The Italian suits of the board room remained in his closet after business hours, replaced by garb which left almost nothing to the imagination. Riding his bicycle in the park, his buns turned heads as each perfect hemisphere rose and fell rhythmically as he peddled. Jet black shiny shorts, with mesh panels and scarlet trim caught the eye of even the casual observer.

When jogging, paper thin nylon shorts allowed passersby to catch a glimpse of that delicious junction between bun cheek and thigh. When he noticed an interested glance, he would find it necessary to pause briefly for a few stretches. At least once during a given jog, the need to tie his shoelaces would invariably rise...as would the organs of those treated to his little show! And what of his organ? Pants that hugged that sassy derriere couldn't help but display other structures with equal efficacy.

Routine casual wear consisted of a variety of jeans...with designer logos to draw the eye to what must be one of the _s_e_x_iest asses ever to grace the male form. If those jeans weren't custom tailored to show off those curvacious nates, they sure fooled me. This boy brought new meaning to the words, "shrink to fit." But no gay man could resist his bottom in the black leather jeans he wore at night!

About the only treat not available to the general population was the one reserved for members of health club. Our boy's Speedo collection was extensive. His favorite, however, was a very brief fluorescent red pair that offered the observer the tantalizing opportunity to monitor each gluteal contraction as his body glided through the water. He delighted in doing a little dance before and entering and after exiting the water. And when he practiced a few crude dives, he made sure plenty of time was spent with his little tush poised deliciously in the air before jumping in.

Besides his limitless ability to jostle the libidos of the city's gay population, the boy had one other characteristic which his professional and social contacts found wearisome. He was invariably late for virtually any engagement. Always ready with a snappy excuse, he delighted in keeping the rich, the powerful, and the handsome anxiously awaiting his presence. Each entrance was made with dramatic flair--he was SO busy and in demand you were lucky that he chose to appear at all. He never said this, of course, but it was easy to "read" his attitude!

I was his neighbor. And, like the rest of us in the neighborhood, delighted in his little shows. We would exchange token pleasantries upon meeting in the street. But being 10 years his senior, I was not a serious contender in the romance arena. But the twinkle in his eye betrayed his formal, stand-offish attitude. And although I know he delighted in my casual glances at his shapely ass and basket. I even remember the rare moment when he turned beet red as I noticed him sneaking a more than accidental glimpse at MY buns!

To my surprise, my firm had occasion to engage the services of his firm. As part of our contract, the boy was to assist me in the development of a new department, as well as present one of his electrifying motivational talks to our staff. True to form, he was 20 minutes late for our initial organizational meeting. He arrived surrounded by an aura of adrenalin. Despite his frenzied demeanor, every hair was in place, and his Armani suit fir perfectly without a wrinkle. "I had to meet with my broker," he said. "It took longer than planned." He paused as I made a note in my memo book. "Well, let's get started," he ordered, trying to take control of the meeting.

"We value punctuality here," I said, in an almost scolding tone. "We must set an example for our employees. Self-discipline and dependability are very important." He fumbled with the papers in his briefcase, ignoring my remarks. He extracted a presentation folder, handed it to me, and changed the subject. The balance of the meeting was very professional, and when we parted I was quite pleased with his work. As he left, my eyes drifted to the caboose. The flap of his jacket covered his buns, but when hw walked, one could get an occassional glimpse of that bottom edge of his butt cheeks. I thought for a moment that such tailoring couldn't be an accident--that suit was perfect to the millimeter.

I almost left the office on the day of our second meeting. He was 30 minutes late. "The lines!" he exclaimed. "Takes forever to pick up theatre tickets!" This time he turned immediately to his papers, which he cleverly extracted from his briefcase before entering the room. I asserted myself. "My time is very valuable, and it was rude of you to arrive 30 minutes late. If this happens again, I will have to speak with your boss." He said nothing, and proceeded business as usual. _d_a_m_n_ he was good! It was obvious why they put up with him. But I was still angry. And when he left that day, wearing a different suit, I realized that it couldn't possibly be coincidence that the flap of that jacket was cut to just barely permit visualization of those magical mounds when he walked!

His third episode of tardiness was even more unnerving. He was 15 minutes late for his speech to our employees. I was livid. I covered for him by making some general remarks, until he finally breezed in like a whirlwind, taking command of both podium and audience. Of course, his address was well received. Immediately after the applause subsided, he started to exit. I grabbed his arm, startling him. I was furious. "I warned you about being late! And this time you inconvenienced over 100 people, not just one. Plus you embarassed me. I'm going to call your boss."

A horrified look overtook his confident countenance. "I'm sorry," he offered. An apology! How atypical! "I'll pro-rate the consulting fees." "You wasted 50 minutes of my time, and 15 minutes of my staff's time--over 100 people!" I countered. "Please," he said, almost pleadingly, "Let's handle this among ourselves. My boss has been, uh, under a lot of stress lately. I don't think he'd understand." I delighted watching this _c_o_c_k_-sure hot shot suddenly assume the demeanor of the naughty boy he was. "What you deserve is a good spanking," I said. He looked relieved, assuming that I was making light of the situation. What I didn't know was that his boss had given an ultimatum. One more complaint about tardiness, and he was to go from the board room to the mail room! What he didn't know was that I was serious about the spanking. I'd been planning for this moment. Now was my chance.

I looked him in the eye, took him by the arm, and led him to the prop room backstage of the lecture hall. He seemed perplexed, but wisely followed silently. I closed the door and looked into his eyes. His blue eyes contrasted seductively with his dark hair and Italian features. "You have a choice. Either I call your employer, or we settle things here and now." He looked relieved, but a bit nervous. Something didn't compute. Why were we in the prop room of the lecture hall, and not my office? He fumbled for some papers, and muttered, "Uh, sure. Let's settle it now. I'll discount our fees. Whatever you think is fair. It'll come out of my commission."

I put the papers back in his open briefcase, closed the lid, and latched it. "I'm afraid that won't do it," I said. It was great finally feeling in control! The boy looked perplexed for the first time since we met. "Well?" I demanded. The boy said nothing. Apparently he forgot my remark of 5 minutes ago. "As I mentioned earlier, you deserve a good spanking." The boy stared at me with a blank look on his face. "I don't get it," he said. "Young man, you certainly ARE going to get it! A bright boy like you should be able to figure this out. Here's the deal. You take a spanking, or I call your boss. Consider youself lucky. You've got a choice."

His face melted with a look that indicated he finally got the message. He was finally at a loss for words. "Please don't call my boss," he said, staring at the floor. I toyed with making him ask me for the spanking, but didn't. I was having a great time as is. I took him by the arm, led him to a table, and coaxed him into position, bending over. I got the feeling he still thought I was just trying to humiliate him, and that I wouldn't actually spank him.

His hands were on the table, arms rigid. I lifted the flap of his jacket, revealing those two perfect hemispheres. Obviously his tailor did a great job on his trousers, too. He was trying to squeeze his buns together. I got the feeling that he had never been spanked before. His legs and pelvis were quivering a bit. He finally realized that I was in earnest. I placed one hand on his lower back, gently pressing him lower. His ass was sticking out, and I made sure he was bent forward enough to relax those gluteals. I verified this by lightly resting my spanking hand on his buns. Amazingly, he seemed a bit more at ease.

I took a couple aiming swings, like a batter preparing for that first pitch. I wanted that first lick to land squarely, covering both cheeks, at the "sit spot" where buns meet thighs. I wanted to make this one count. Being unused to spanking, his buns would be sensitive. However, with the protection of his pants and briefs, it would take a fair amount of "English" to make an impression. I wound up, swinging my arm in synchrony with my torso. Moments before impact, I added a flick of the wrist to maximize the effectiveness of the swat.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKK!!

The boy's legs bucked, and i heard him gasp. His hands tightened. Nothing was said. I wound up for number 2, to be placed squarely over number 1. That would get his attention! I wound up, and...

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!

The boy took a deep breath, but said nothing. He tried to remain stoic. Hmm. I decided to up the stakes, and accelerate the pace. I decided to give each cheek three quick, hard spanks in rapid succession.

SSSSSSSPPPPPPPAAAAAAANNNNNKKKKK! SSSSPPPPPPAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKK! SSSSSSSPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAANNNNNK!

SSSSSSSSSSSSPPPPPPPAAAAAANNNNKK! SSSSPPPPPPPAAAAAAAANNNNNKKKK! SSSSPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKK!

The boy suddenly stood up. "That's enough, man! That hurts!" "Of couse," I responded. "Spankings are supposed to hurt! Now get back into position!" "How many more?" he asked sheepishly. "You wasted 50 minutes of my time those first two meetings. I've given you 8. That leaves 38. Now bend over!"

He complied, defeated. He took a couple deep breaths, and gripped the table firmly. I decided to give him 20 fast, hard spanks, alternating cheeks. If I waited longer, he would start to numb. I wanted that smart ass of his to smart into the next day!

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

The boy was dancing, and gasping under his breath. I kept working.

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

The boy reached back with one hand. "Please," he said, ver quietly. Imoved his arm out of the way, and gave him six more. He reacted a little less. Perhaps he was getting a little numb.

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

I paused and let him up. He was wincing, trying to maintain his composure. He was rubbing his ass with one hand, and wiping the sweat from his brow with the other. Perhaps he thought his spanking was over. "18 more to go!" I pronounced. That _c_o_c_k_y brat was now a naughty little boy, and I was in control. He got back into position. I decided to take full advantage of the situation. "Drop those pants!" I ordered. He stood up quickly. "No way man! I'm 23 years old! I don't take spankings! And I certainly don't take them bare assed!" "Okay," I said. I picked up the phone and started dialing. "It's a shame you took 32 licks for nothing," I said. He silently dropped his pants, and took off his jacket. I hung up the phone. Nice touch, I thought, removing the jacket.

Staring at me were some very brief red nylon briefs. Almost as red were the bits of butt not covered by the very thin nylon. I couldn't resist. I carefully lowered the briefs, exposing the buns. They were nice and rosy--I'd done my job well. A few white outlines of my fingertips punctuated the crimson background. The boy said nothing, but was squeezing the table tightly with his hands. By now the numbness would be wearing off, and those red cheeks would be hypersensitive. I decided to play this one to the max. "You will receive 18 more. You are not to move. If you take them well, that will be all for today. It's going to hurt, so hang on!"

I decided to deliver 16 fast ones, alternating 4 per cheek, and saving two for the finale.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! (left cheek)

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! (right cheek)

The boy's legs buckled with each blow. Each lick produced a sharp, satisfying "SMACK!" He held still, but was groaning under his breath.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! (left cheek)

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! (right cheek)

"Two more!" I said, pausing momentarily to muster my strength. I decided to end the spanking as I began it, with two intense, overlapping licks to the "sit spot" where curve meets thigh. Once again, I placed one hand on the boy's back, rested the other lightly on his ass, and took a couple practice swings.

Finally, I wound up with all my might, and flicked my wrist skillfully just before impact.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNKKKK!

The boy let out a yelp, but before he could fully experience the sting, I delivered the second whack, right over the first.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNKKKKKK!

The boy remained motionless, apparently unsure of the count. I accomplished my objective, and decided to offer him at least a modicum of dignity. I replaced his briefs, eliminating any exposure of his genitals. "You may get dressed," I said gently. The boy stood up, facing away from me. He fliched slightly as he pulled his trousers over his glowing rump. He stood silently. I could hear him sobbing quietly. I reached for a Kleenex, and handed it to the boy. "You took that well." He dried his tears, blew his nose, and faced me.

"I guess we're even now, sir?" he asked quietly. "For the first two meetings, yes. Of course there's still the matter of you being late for your lecture. And that involved a hundred people." I couldn't help but notice his hard on, but said nothing. He rubbed his ass. "Tomorrow you won't want to be doing very much sitting. Since this was your first spanking, we'll continue our payment schedule this weekend. You will report to my apartment at 9 AM sharp Saturday. You know the consequences of being late. No need to dress up, your bicycle shorts will be fine. On second thought, make it your running shorts. I don't think you'll be riding your bicycle for a while."

"I don't either, Sir."

The boy replaced his jacket and passed through the door. His gait was a bit less _c_o_c_k_y than when he arrived. As he left, I noticed how his jacket allowed just a glimpse of those cheeks as he walked. What he didn't know was that his boss called me to discuss the punctuality problem. And that tomorrow, he would be called upon to make a decision. He could be demoted to the mailroom, or "settle things" bent over his boss' desk.