The Boss’s Bizarre Justice
A while ago, I was at an all-time low. At 23 years old I’d got myself into a ridiculous amount of debt and could see no way out of my predicament. The flash clothes and the other expensive gifts I’d lavished on myself had fulfilled an ego-boosting need in me… but only for a short while. Now, I felt stupidly guilty about wasting so much money on stuff I didn’t need or want. I saw a short-term solution to my problems when I ‘borrowed’ some money from the works account. After all, although still only a junior, I was a trusted employee and had access to all manner of finances within the company and had convinced myself I could pay it back before anyone noticed.
Unfortunately, for me it was at a time when the firm was being audited and the boss re-checked the company accounts. The ‘missing’ amount was so obvious and so was the culprit. Consequently, to save a long process of denial I admitted what I’d done and the boss said he had no options but to fire me and call the police. I asked if there wasn’t an alternative as I was up to my eyes in debt and I couldn’t see another employer giving me a job if his references said that I’d embezzled from the company. I was desperate to keep my job and literally begged him to come up with an alternative to my being sacked.
Mr. Phanasious thought for a while and said there was an alternative… indeed, an old-fashioned cure for what I’d done. He said he was prepared not to fire me if I agreed to his suggestion. The money was to be paid back instantly and if I couldn’t do that, my wage would be garnished by 10% until the money was recovered. I agreed, as I knew that if he’d gone to the police I might have ended up with a record or even worse, sent to prison. I thanked him for being so understanding but he said that there was more.
I was unbelievably relieved I could keep my job so I agreed that I’d do anything before knowing what the conditions were. He was very stern when he informed me that the only reason he wouldn’t go to the police was on the requirement that I had to take six strokes with a cane across my bare bottom every night after work until the debt was paid. I was shocked. Even at school, I’d never received corporal punishment, my parents had never agreed with that form of chastisement either but now… well, I had little option, if this was the price I had to pay for my stupidity. Besides, when the alternative could mean prison, and what was said to go on in such places, I was probably getting off fairly easily.
I reluctantly agreed and hung around the office until everyone except Mr. Phanasious had left for the night. Once alone in his office he locked the door and told me to strip to just my underwear. I was nervous and apprehensive of what was about to happen. My Greek boss was a great deal bigger than me; six feet tall, hirsute and a body that any professional rugby player would be proud of… even if he was well into his 50s. He looked quite strong and more than capable of taking care of himself if anyone caused him any trouble. I was scared of what this powerfully built man could inflict on my body but, while almost naked and held in this older man’s gaze, strangely, I began to get aroused.
He walked up behind me carrying a cane he’d retrieved from a cupboard, pulled my y-fronts down to my knees, and began to fondle my arse, cock and balls. I immediately got even harder and a strange thrill ran through my body. He then ordered me to bend over the end of the desk. As I’ve said Mr. Phanasious is a big, tough, no-nonsense type of boss, I was at his mercy, and now, in this passive and vulnerable position, it was turning me on. Then I felt the first sting as he bought the cane down across my arse cheeks. I screamed blue murder as I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much or to be delivered with such force. After six cruel agonizing swats, which brought tears to my eyes, I wasn’t turned on any longer. However, as I raised myself up and rubbed my flaming backside he told me my punishment hadn’t finished.
I was ordered to lie out on his desk, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded because the recently delivered stripes across my bum cheeks were very painful. He helped by pulling off my underpants and once I was embarrassingly naked he pointed to my still semi hard cock and said that just wouldn’t do. He seemed angry that I’d got excited and put the second part of his plan into position. From his desk draw he took out a thick piece of what looked like towel fabric and folded it and placed it under my sore bum. He then told me that from now on, I was no longer the office ‘junior’ but the office’ baby’ and should be dressed as such whenever I was at work. He would check both when I arrived and before I left to make sure I was keeping to my side of the arrangement. He made it quite clear that if, for any reason I didn’t like this, or that I didn’t comply, he would quite happily hand me over to the police to deal with.
With my arse on fire, he was quick to follow through with the second part of my punishment… although I was embarrassed at my position (laid out on his desk in a diaper) the thick soft padding had eased the pain a little and I began to appreciate this version of my boss’s rough justice.
As I pulled up my trousers over the bulky diaper he locked my underpants in cabinet and said that when the debt was paid I could retrieve them but until then, he expected me to comply with the new house rules. My movements were slow, as I was both in shock and negotiating the huge bulge in my pants and between my legs. He helped me to my feet and offered his hand to shake. Staring directly into my weepy eyes he asked if I understood what was now required of me. I nodded.
He wanted more. “Say it.”
My head was dealing with the painful and inflamed bottom but I knew, as his hand grasped mine, that I would have to confirm and agree to his demands.
“Sir, I know I’ve done wrong. I apologize and accept without question the condition for me to remain with the company. I will wear whatever the company deems appropriate and that my junior status has been reduced to that as… er… er…” I was finding it difficult to actually say the word, “…baby.”
He quickly shook and released my hand as if I’d been dismissed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning bright and early for inspection,” he looked darkly at me, “Don’t even think about absconding or wearing anything under your trousers other than a diaper.”
He pointed his huge muscular finger at me. “That will remind you, every moment you are at this company what you have done, the shame you have brought on yourself and your family and… whilst you are here and on my time, you are no longer allowed use the bathroom. You will come to me when you need changing. Is all that understood?”
I said, “Yes sir,” and left his office.
On the way home, and with my sore arse and bulky reminder, I began to think it strange that he had this fabric diaper already in his draw. Had he known that I’d agree to his terms or, perhaps, there had been others who’d broken the rules in the past and this was how he chastised us all? Maybe there were others in the office who were also made to wear the same as I had to, though I’d never noticed.
It’s now the third month of my sentence and I seem to have hardly paid off any of my debt… but the punishment continues. Bizarrely, I’m beginning to love being the baby of this hulking brute of a man. Even though the caning and humiliation (I feel that everyone can tell I’m wearing a diaper to work even if they don’t know why) are painful I feel a connection, which of course may well be just in my head.
I had started to appear regularly at his office asking to be changed but he has now added a pair of plastic pants to my humiliation to hold my soaked diaper in longer. The constant rustle and crinkle as I move makes me shiver in embarrassment but I dare not say anything to any of the others in case they tell or think I got off lightly. They are a very loyal bunch of workers to the boss and he is very loyal to them. I’m sure if my transgression got out it would be them who were the trouble for me and not Mr. Phanasious.
The fact that he has taken the time to personally deal with my offense and offer his own style of bizarre justice, I feel privileged to have such a boss. In fact I’d say my whole personality, temperament and work performance has improved and although I no longer deal with actual money any more, my concentration level and productivity have certainly increased. On payday each month my salary is docked the agreed amount but with interest on my ‘agreed loan’, and the way things are going, I might never get to pay off my debt and besides, I quite like the diaper. I never take it off except when I have to receive my caning, which doesn’t seem quite so fierce these days. I even wear a diaper at home and where ever I go as a constant reminder of what I did and what now really matters… to respect people not things.