It was the sort of situation that people call a perfect storm.  I certainly could not foresee what was going to happen.  If I had been asked about this happening I’m sure that I would have worked to prevent it.  But, happen it did and I’m still of mixed mind whether or not it was a good thing.

In order to understand the dynamics of the situation, you need a mess of personal details.  A few years ago I graduated with a fancy degree which assured that I was well paid so I could reduce my student debt.  Thus being employed – and being paid – was vital to my well being.  Second, I’m a shrimp being only ​4′9″​ (​145 cm​) in height which is the medium height of a twelve-year-old boy so every adult is taller and correspondingly dominating.  Need I say that I get carded everywhere?  I was raised by my step mom after my father died when I was only nine.  She spanked me a lot and because she thought I was a naughty little boy she dressed me in shorts.  She did hold me after spanking so I got to confuse being spank with love and caring.

I changed jobs in the spring because my previous employer failed although I did get paid what was due and even some severance.  My new position was excellent with a small firm in an off the beaten track location.  That had the advantage of allowing me to save more since there was little to spend on.  I liked the work and after a couple of months the tormenting (teasing) about my minimal stature stopped.  I most certainly did not miss hearing “Here comes ‘Homer, the Shrimp.’”

In due course came the summer and the boss’s son started working.  Ivan was huge.  Well for a fourteen-year-old anyway at ​ 5′10″​ (​178 cm​) tall and ​180 pounds​ (​82 kg​) and it was all hard muscle on hard bone.  He was already man-sized and still growing.  Once when I was in the Men’s Room he came in and teased me by showing off his generous endowment at the urinal as I was washing my hands reminding me that part of me was also undersized.

I’m sure that he thought that the best part of working was being able to torment me.  I have no idea why he loved being mean to me.  Unfortunately it was often physical since he was so much bigger and stronger.  Sometime he would just pick me up and move me aside claiming I was in his way.  Sometimes he would slap my butt calling me a little boy and laugh.  Need I say that it was humiliating and embarrassing?© YLeeCoyote

Then came the heat wave.  More than record-breaking temperatures where predicted and the plant’s cooling unit expired completely the first day with a loud bang.  The service company came but the report was dire.  The unit had to be replaced and that would take weeks.  We could not shut down so the windows were opened, fans were added and the dress code changed to allow shorts and T-shirts.  Work continued with lots of water on the side.  Ivan was delighted and wearing his board shorts found reasons to taunt me about my short shorts.

Then one Friday afternoon the boss summoned me.  He was upset and angry.  I had supposedly mishandled an order.  He was ready to fire me.  I insisted that I did exactly what was called for and noted that it was Ivan who had given me the paper work.  Ivan was called in and he denied changing it.  I was trapped.  I certainly could not afford to be fired so I pleaded if there was another way.

Ivan spoke up.  “Father you strapped me when I lied like this.  Perhaps that would be an option.”  I kept quiet hoping that the boss would agree.  He did.  He ordered that I return after hours for a severe strapping.

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.” I said and left.

At ​six​ (​1800​) I returned to the boss’ office.  I was surprised that I was face to face with Ivan.  “Father had to fly to see an important client in the morning.  The housekeeper delivered the strap.”  That I was horrified, goes without saying, as Ivan displayed the heavy implement fully.  “Grandfather brought this tawse from Scotland when he emigrated and found it very effective.  Father, likewise, found it very effective on me.  I’m sure it will make a lasting impression on you.”  He was grinning to put the Chelsea Cat to shame with anticipation.

“I guess I best return on Monday.”

“NO!” he roared.  “I will strap you now, Homer, just like the little naughty school boy you are.”  He paused to let that sink in.  “Lose your baby shorts and TW’s and bend over the desk.”

I was scared to do it and even more scared not to do it.  I stripped as he ordered and bent over the desk.

“Hold on and don’t move, boy.” he said with a sneer which I could hear even without seeing his face.

Then he raised and swung the heavy strap.  For the first cut I managed to suppress a scream although it hurt fiercely.  Over and over the strap worked to turn my bottom in a flaming pain center of astronomical proportions.  Soon I was howling at each cut and bawling like when I was ten and my stepmother was strapping me.  I was grateful that it was after hours and we were alone in the plant.

The strapping stopped but he commanded me not to move.  I heard him slide his zipper down.  Then his hands were on my waist.  His hard shaft was poking at my butt and quickly found its target.  He was rough and fast like a teen but with the power of a man.  Fortunately, he produced a lot of pre-cum which is a great lubricant for he rammed in fully.

There wasn’t any doubt that I was his to take.  And with my hot blazing red tail exciting him, take me he did.  Ivan quickly exploded but remained fully hard and continued to fuck me.  I also exploded even with all the pain as his monstrous cock pounded at my love nut.

When he was satiated he stopped.  He pulled me up and hugged me tightly from behind.  “You’re mine now, boy.” he said forcefully, “Homer, the shrimp, is mine.”  Ivan even bit me on my neck.

I knew he was right and that my life was changed.

On Monday the boss was back and summoned me.  He had the strap ready but I told him that Ivan had already used it on me.  He demanded to see and I showed him my still red and painful behind.  He sat down, pulled me over his lap and spanked me with his hand until I was bawling once again like a little boy.  “You better not mess up again, Homer.”