Working For Darren -- Chapter Four
NOTES>> This is the fourth chapter in the Working For Darren series. Safe sex won't appear in this story all that often, but I trust it appears a lot in your own lives. Sex will appear quite often though, sometimes quite graphically, and invariably of the gay and BDSM nature, so only read on if the law of your chosen land allows. The copyright is all mine, subject to Nifty's rules on the matter.
Sorry it's been a while since the last chapter -- I've been a bit under the weather. But if you haven't already, don't forget you can check out my other Nifty story -- `Contracted To Justin'.
As always, any feedback you've got is really appreciated, positive or critical. Do email - josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com.
CHAPTER FOUR: Humiliation expanded
On my way into work that day I'd made a commitment to myself. I was going to do everything Darren told me to do.
I'd decided the night before that I couldn't just quit this job to avoid the punishment my boss had prescribed -- there was simply no way I could let my proud parents down by losing my great new job. Not so soon. And not because of downloading gay porn onto my work PC (if they ever found out about that, God knows what would happen, they didn't even know I was gay).
So I'd deluded myself into thinking that if I did everything Darren had instructed me to do -- to come to his office each morning and lunchtime, strip off my jacket and shirt, drop my pants and boxers, and stand in that corner, with my cock out and ass on show, until he decided it was time to paddle my ass, and then if I returned in the evenings to suck his cock and swallow his cum -- then after a couple of days he'd decide I'd paid my dues, and things could get back to normal. And no one -- my work colleagues, my parents, no one -- need know anything about it.
That's why I'd tolerated my morning strip and paddling, even though it had been worse than I'd anticipated. Much worse - I'd had to wait for two and half hours for Darren to even arrive, with my pants and boxers round my ankles, knowing that anyone could walk into the office at anytime and see me being degraded in that way. It's why I hadn't flinched when he stuffed my dirty boxers in my mouth, and why I hadn't protested when he'd added ten extra swats to my paddling, or when he'd ordered I hand over my t-shirt, making me even more naked. Somehow it had seemed sensible to just accept each torment as it arrived, because I was still assuming that by being compliant with every one of Darren's little demands, I'd bring these punishments to a quicker conclusion.
But with hindsight I should have stopped that Monday lunchtime, when Darren commanded me to strip not just in front of him, but in front of one of my co-workers too. Tolerating what Darren had dealt out to date had been horribly degrading. But it had been a secret between me and him, or at least that's what I'd thought. But Darren clearly had no qualms in sharing our secret, and that was a whole new ball game. This job clearly wasn't worth that kind of degradation and humiliation -- I should have walked out at that very minute. But I didn't. Perhaps it was the shock -- I really wasn't prepared for someone else to be in Darren's office when I came for my third set of punishment. Or perhaps it was because somewhere, deep inside me, this scenario, while embarrassing and terrifying me, also excited me. Certainly I felt my dick start to rise as Darren spoke more assertively.
"Look fag boy, if you're not naked in ten seconds, I'll give your ass fifty swats, then I'll have Mike here do the same again on your balls, is that what you want?"
My face burned red, my stomach churned, and my mind raced. Not only at what Darren had said, but also at the fact that Mike, my co-worker, had made no obvious reaction. Wouldn't you be shocked or surprised, or at very least amused, if you heard your boss speak to another employee in this way? Had Darren already told him what he'd been doing to me? He must have done. Who else had he told?
But there wasn't time to consider those questions. Given that walking away from this situation didn't even occur to me at the time, my main concern was that Darren had given me just ten seconds to lose my clothes. I quickly took off my jacket and hung it on the hook by the door, and then did likewise to my tie and my shirt. Then I looked up. Darren and Mike were watching me intently. My face was burning hot and my head starting to ache -- I'd couldn't ever remember being so on edge as I was at that moment.
I knew what they were waiting for.
I unbuckled my pants and let them fall to the floor, revealing the sweaty, cum stained boxers Darren had forced me to wear, still slightly damp from having been shoved in my mouth earlier. Mike smiled when he saw them. Or perhaps he was smiling at the fact my dick was now almost rock solid, and was tenting out my damp tight boxers. Then I did it. I took the boxers by their elastic waist band and pulled them down, revealing my hard cock to Darren and, for the first time, to my co-worker, Mike.
Now Mike did start laughing. Only slightly, but he was definitely laughing.
"What's with the hard on?" he said. I thought he was asking me at first, but then he turned to Darren.
"I don't know," our boss responded, "it's sick. I'm trying to punish him, and he's clearly getting off on it. I'm starting to think that I'm going to have to find some new way of punishing him, none of this shit really counts when he's getting off on it, does it?"
"Too right, but it's hard to punish sick queers like him", Mike responded. Being talked about in this way was possibly the most degrading thing so far, worse than exposing myself to Mike even.
"OK gay boy, go stand in your corner, me and Mike have got work to do".
I waddled back to my corner once more. I'd not previously noticed how much noise my pants and belt made as I walked with them round my ankles. I was quite glad when I got to the corner, because the noise stopped and my cock was hidden from my audience. Though it did mean they got a good view of my still sore ass. Though I'm not sure how much they looked at it, because more or less as soon as I was in my corner they returned to their meeting. The fact a naked co-worker was standing a few yards from them, pants round ankles, hard cock exposed, hands behind head, bruised ass there for all to see, didn't seem to distract them from their work at all. Which in itself was humiliating. And I'm sure they knew that.
"OK, we'd better deal with gay boy" Darren said, finally, having kept me standing their for at least half an hour. "Mike, would you administer the paddling, that way I can video it".
Shit, that was bad on a number of levels. Firstly, exposing myself to my co-worker had been horribly degrading, the thought he was going to get to paddle my ass twenty times more so. Where did Darren get off allowing a co-worker to paddle my ass? Taking such punishment from Darren, a year younger than me, had been bad but at least he was my boss, higher up the corporate hierarchy. But Mike -- he might have been slightly older than Darren (and slightly older than me I suspect), but he was on the same level as me in the company. Why did he get to punish me in this way? And then there was that bit about Darren videoing me being paddled. What was that about? That was the second time he'd have videoed me doing degrading things in his office. Why was he videoing this stuff? You'll laugh at me, I know, but I really didn't know the answer to that question until a few days later.
But at that moment there was no way to argue about the punishment, Mike's administration of it, or the filming.
No way at all.
And not just because my mind was so messed up at that moment that I wouldn't have been able to find the words required to argue anyway. But that didn't matter because, as Darren spoke, I felt him stand behind me, and then he pushed open my mouth, and shoved something in. Another gag. But this wasn't a pair of boxer shorts. This was harder than that, and seemed to push its way into my throat, making it uncomfortable to breath. And then he tied something behind my head to secure it in place. I had no idea what it was at that moment, though later learned it was a cock gag. This was getting much more full on by the minute.
"OK, take your position".
I diligently did as instructed. I turned round, again exposing myself to my boss and co-worker, and waddled towards the chair by Darren's desk. Mike was standing just to the side of it, eyeing me up and holding Darren's paddle. My face still burned red, my stomach still churned and my mind still raced but -- and here's the thing -- my cock was still rock solid hard, throbbing even. Darren was right -- that was sick. Was he also right when he said the hard on meant I enjoyed this shit? I didn't think so. Or rather, I hoped not. Though a tiny bit of me suspected that perhaps, in some kind of way, he might have be right.
I leaned over the chair, giving Mike perfect access to my ass. I looked up and there was Darren with his video camera pointed on me. He seemed to be panning my body to get my face, then my cock, then my ass. Though I didn't get much of an opportunity to work out what he was doing because at that moment I heard that swoosh noise again, and then felt that horrific pain spread across my ass as the paddle made impact. Fuck it hurt. Mike had an even stronger swing than Darren -- something I'd have not thought possible had I not just felt it for myself. And he paddled with some speed too.
Swat, swat, swat, swat -- one came after the other fast.
The swatting sound and the slight buzzing of Darren's video camera were the only noises. I couldn't make any noise, not even a squeak of pain, with the cock gag stuck in my mouth. And neither Darren nor Mike spoke as my latest paddling was administered. Mike didn't even count, which made it hard to gauge how far I was through this torment. Though neither Mike nor Darren had actually told me how many I was getting anyway. There'd been several before I thought to start counting myself, and after that point there was at least 35 before Darren finally said, "just ten more then we're done". I felt a mixed response to that statement. I'd been hoping each of the last ten swats would be the last, so the thought of another ten was gutting. But then again, at least I knew now what was still to come. And they came fast again -- swat, swat, swat. And then he was done.
"OK gay boy, I want to you stand up and wank yourself. You keep doing it till I say otherwise. But don't you dare cum". This instruction I gladly obeyed. Despite the indescribable soreness of my ass (which was by far the worse so far), and the fact that the video camera was still running, I eagerly started tugging on my rock solid dick. Despite having already wanked off less than two hours ago -- then in the privacy of the disabled toilet -- I was more horny now than ever, meaning after a few tugs it was getting hard to obey his order not to cum. I did what I could, but after a minute I was really close to orgasm. Should I stop wanking to stop myself cumming? I couldn't ask, of course, because the cock gag was still in my mouth, but I made what noises I could (which as I said, wasn't much) and shuck my head to communicate my dilemma. Darren smiled for ten or twenty seconds watching me shake my head around and then, just as I was going to stop wanking, so close was I to orgasm, he spoke again, "OK, cum, but catch your spunk with your other hand, and don't spill a drop, otherwise you're in for it".
I did as he said. I positioned my left hand under my cock head as I continued to wank with my right. Within seconds my dick was unloading four large helpings of cum, despite my earlier wank. Despite being a bit unsteady as I came, I somehow managed to catch it all in my left hand. Almost as soon as I'd finished, and with my mind very much in that blurrish post-orgasm state, Darren spoke again.
"OK Mike, get that cock out of his mouth"
That confused me at the time -- I still hadn't worked out it was a cock gag in my mouth. But Mike knew what he meant, and he suddenly appeared behind me, unbuckling the strap and pulling the gag out. It was a great relief when it was removed -- though somehow that slight return to normality, being able to breath easily again, made my post-orgasm embarrassment about where I was, and how I was dressed (or, rather, undressed), and of what had just happened, seem even more intense. And Darren managed to make it even worse.
"OK, put your left hand to your mouth and lick up your queer cum. Do it slowly, and with your tongue all the way out, I need to get this on film good".
Despite my intense embarrassment, despite my genuine horror at what he'd just told me to do, and in front of my co-worker, and despite the fact Darren was still filming, I did what was ordered without question -- without even thinking. I suppose I had licked up a bit of my cum on Friday, off the boxers I'd used as cum rag, so it wasn't a completely new thing. But more than that, my mind was just too confused to do anything other than comply with the orders I was being given.
So much so that when Darren said "resume position" and instructed Mike to give me ten more swats, I did as I was told again, without thinking. Though I soon regretted doing so. The ten swats that followed were at least ten times worse than anything that had gone before. Partly because these hits went on top of my already sore sore ass, which hadn't begun to recover from the fifty odd swats I reckoned Mike had unleashed before. But more so because so soon after cumming everything about this situation -- the degradation, the force of the swats, the pain in my ass -- all seemed ten times worse.
And of course now there was no gag to mask my screams. I couldn't see how anyone in that building couldn't have heard me scream, and because Mike never stopped once during the ten swats I screamed constantly, getting louder all the time, throughout that final paddling of the day. I must have screamed for a good ten seconds after he'd finished too. But neither Darren or Mike seemed too bothered by the noise I made. Which made me wondered why Darren had previously gagged me.
"OK gay boy, you can go" Darren said, once I'd calmed down. "Obviously you're going to have to give Mike here a blow job too, because he helped with your punishment. What's good for you Mike?"
"4pm in the men's room on the second floor", he said, quickly. He'd obviously already thought that through. Especially given the instructions that followed, directed straight at me. "Strip down by the urinals and put your jacket and shirt in the pisser nearest the door, then come to the furthest cubical -- I'll be in there waiting -- but you'll have to ask to suck me off nicely before I let you in, understand?"
What was he talking about? He was insane to expect me to do all that. And yet, I found myself nodding and saying "yes sir". My dick was starting to go hard again too.
"Good," Darren continued, adding insult to injury, "when you're done with Mike you can come straight here ready to give me my 5pm blow job. And keep Mike's cum in your mouth, I want to check it".
How the hell had it got to this? Why was I nodding and saying "yes sir"? Darren was right, I was sick.