Mikes Performance Evaluation

For Mike, who enjoyed every story I ever told him.

*****

Mike leaned back in his chair and stretched. He glanced at the clock—almost 4:00 in the afternoon, and on a Friday. The office was nearly empty, everybody having gone home early to get a head start on the weekend. His performance review was coming up in about 10 minutes, with his bitch of a boss, Jane. He grimaced at the pile of work she had left for him a half hour ago, with just a curt instruction to be done before he left for the weekend. He sighed heavily and pulled the first file out to review her instructions and instantly groaned. Research and a memo—on a Friday, an hour before the weekend?

He grumbled under his breath, only the words "fucking bitch" audible. As if he had summoned her, she appeared right behind his shoulder. Startled, he dropped the file and stammered a greeting. Jane stood there with a neutral look on her face. She was not very tall, only about 5'2" to his 5'5". She was also very fat, with large legs and a big ass. Everybody in the office was afraid of her, knowing how ruthless she could be. Just last week she had cut the entire marketing department after they had displeased her with a subpar ad.

She smiled coolly at him. "Good afternoon, Michael. I see you've finally gotten around to the work I've assigned you. Come to my office, please. We're going to do your performance evaluation now."

Mike got up from his chair, still flustered by his boss's sudden appearance in his cubicle. Wiping sweaty palms on his jeans, he followed her to her office.

Jane's office was big, with large floor to ceiling windows facing the street, overlooking the city. It was the start of rush hour now, and he could see cars and people rushing by in their haste to get home.

"Please close the door and have a seat, Michael."

He looked over at Jane, who was sitting in her large executive chair behind her L-desk. She looked at him icy politeness until he sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of her desk. There was silence as she shuffled papers on her desk and then stared directly at him. He met her gaze, and then looked down and away.

"Michael, you've been with our company now for a month. Today is your first performance review. I have to say, your references were excellent when we hired you. Many of your former employers had only good things to say about you—hard-working, dependable, honest. But after a month here, I have to wonder if they were talking about the same person we hired." He looked at her and then dropped his gaze as the silence dragged on. "Frankly, Michael, I'm not sure you're a good fit for our company." He snapped his head up and stared back at her in disbelief. He was being fired? On a Friday? A month into his job?

He heard himself start speaking, as if he were listening to another person. "Please. Jane. I really, really need this job. What can I do to improve? I can't lose this job now. I'll do anything. Really." The blubbering went on, and Jane let out a disgusted sigh, muttering under her breath, "I knew I should have let Human Resources handle this. What a mess."

"Michael, stop it. Stop whining. If you wanted this job so badly, you should have worked harder and been more disciplined. However, I am willing to work with you to help you keep your job. You are new to the company, so I think it's just a matter of training you to achieve the kind of work ethic we're looking for."

Mike couldn't believe it. The ice queen was letting him keep his job? He quieted down, listening intently to her.

"Michael, do you want to start this training? It won't be easy." She glanced at him, and he nodded slightly. "Very good then. Take off your clothes."

He gaped at her. She sighed again, like a parent with an extremely frustrating toddler. "Take. Off. Your. Clothes." She said it slowly, enunciating each word like he was an idiot incapable of understanding English.

He sat there, shocked. What was Jane doing? Didn't she know that there were rules against sexual harassment? She stared disgustedly at him and then told him, "Gather your things. You're done here as of today."

With those words, Mike knew he had no choice but to obey. He raised his hands to the first button of his collared shirt and hesitated. He saw her staring intently at him, and he started to unbutton his shirt. He felt the cool air in the office surrounding his body as the shirt came off. He took off his shoes, then his socks. He stared at Jane, still sitting in her large chair. She eyed him coolly as he unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly. He stood up, and pulled down his jeans and stepped out of them. Now he just had his boxers on.

He put his fingers on the waist of his boxers, and hesitated again. He let out a soft, "Please" as he looked at her, begging her with his eyes not to make him do this. She cocked her head to the side and held his gaze. Defeated, he pulled down his boxers. With an uncontrolled reflex, his hands immediately came up to cover his cock. He was blushing so hard, he felt his whole body turn warm.

"Put down your hands, Michael." The command was soft. He reluctantly put down his hands.

"Excellent. Part of being disciplined is following directions. I'm glad to see you're capable of doing that. Now come here and brace yourself on this chair."

She pointed to a chair near a table in the middle of her expansive office. It was a hard, metallic chair, keeping in line with the cold modern lines in Jane's office. "Hold onto the arms, spread your legs and bend over," she commanded.

Mike reluctantly grabbed both arms of the chair and bent over. "I said, spread your legs, Michael," she instructed. He moved his legs about 6 inches apart. She made a tsk-ing noise, and curtly commanded him, "I said spread them. More!" He jumped, startled at the change in her voice. He spread his legs wider.

She nodded in approval. Mike groaned, imagining how this looked. He could feel the cold air seeping into his ass crack. She got up from her chair and got behind him. He felt her caress his ass cheek, as she told him quietly, "Discipline means following instructions no matter what the circumstances are. You've had trouble with this, but today we're going to correct this." She picked up a pointer from near her display board and told him calmly, "You are not to let go of that chair under any circumstances. Do you understand?" He nodded. She continued, "After every stroke, you are to tell me, 'Thank you, Miss Jane.' Understood?" He nodded again. "Good. Let's begin."

He heard her move and reposition herself. There was an alarming amount of silence that seemed to go on for an unbearable amount of time before he felt, rather than saw, her raise her hand back and whip the pointer against his ass.

Mike howled, the veins on his neck standing out at he arched his back in pain. He let go of the chair and clutched his reddening backside. And then he remembered Jane, who stood there with her arms crossed and looking extremely displeased with him. He put down his hands and looked down at the ground, already knowing he had messed up. She tapped him on the ass gently with the pointer, and said only, "Again."

He moaned quietly and then bent over the chair, spreading his legs without being told. He heard the rustling of her clothes as she again repositioned herself. And then again, a white hot fire against his ass. He screamed and almost let go of the chair, but this time remembered his instructions and gripped the chair tighter as he swung his ass around trying to alleviate the pain. And then he choked out, "Thank you, Miss Jane." He turned his head slightly to look at her, and she lifted one corner of her mouth in a half smile. He bent his head back down, awaiting the next stroke. She swung again, and again, and again. He moaned, shrieked, groaned as his ass was lit on fire. He managed to say "Thank you, Miss Jane" after each stroke, but his mind was clouded with pain and a little fear. She patted him on the backside in approval. Mike could feel the sweat beading on his body from the pain and exertion his body was being put through.

There was silence, and then she instructed him to spread his ass cheeks. He reached back without hesitation and spread his ass cheeks, exposing his little anus to her. He heard her move to her desk, and return to her position behind his ass. She instructed him to keep his hands where they were now, opening his ass cheeks up, and not to let go under any circumstances. He nodded his assent.

Silence again, and then a stinging pop against his anus that almost made him lose his grip on his ass cheeks. He stifled a little scream as the pain spread. What the hell was that? Mike turned to see her with a thick rubberband, preparing to snap him on the anus again. He groaned, and put his head down, still holding his ass cheeks apart. She snapped him again, and again, and again. He wiggled his ass from side to side, trying to shimmy the pain away. He heard Jane behind him tsk again. She commanded him to stop wriggling his hips like a little whore and hold still. He blushed again, mortified. She snapped his anus until it was swollen and hot to the touch. Mike never let go of his ass cheeks despite his small yelps and whimpers on each strike, and he could tell that Jane was pleased with him. It suddenly felt more important than ever to please this woman, who seemingly was never pleased or satisfied.

"Michael, I see the training is starting to work. Perhaps you have potential here after all. One last piece of training, and then you can get back to work."

Jane motioned for him to get on the table in her office on his elbows and knees. She instructed him again to spread his legs so that he had easy access to both his cock and his anus. She gently fingered the welts all over his ass, looking at the bruising that was just beginning to turn purple. He shivered in pain as she rubbed each welt.

She then quietly told him that the final lesson of the day was not to cum until given permission—he had to learn that he was no longer in control, but she was. He was also instructed to stay in this position no matter what. He groaned quietly and nodded in defeat. He felt her rub cream into his anus, pushing her fingers in to help spread the lube. And then two fingers were suddenly in his anus, and he arched up, trying to escape the intrusion. Jane slapped him on the ass, right on the welts and he screamed. "Did I say to get up? Did I? I specifically told you to stay in position, didn't I?" She punctuated each sentence with an angry slap on his ass. He cried, feeling the tears leak out of his eyes as the pain radiated from his ass. "Now hold still. Do you understand?" Mike nodded, and returned to his hands and elbows position.

She wiggled her fingers in deeper, looking for his prostate, and upon finding it, she rubbed her finger over it. Mike let out a deep, low moan, feeling an extraordinary pressure to cum. However, fearing another slap on his already bruised ass, he held his position. And then Jane's hand reached around for his cock and began to stroke it. She stroked his cock slowly, simultaneously milking his prostate. Mike was in agony. He could feel his orgasm coming, and there was nothing he could do about it. He burst out, "Please. Please Jane. Please, please, I'm cumming. Please give me permission to cum!" There was silence and then a curt "no" came from behind him. He sobbed in desperation as she continued to stroke his prostate and his cock. "PLEASE. PLEASE." He almost screamed his pleas, feeling out of control as his orgasm bubbled up.

And then she said, "Cum, Michael. Now." And he cried in relief as his cum shot out of his cock, all over the table. The orgasm seemed to go on forever as he tried to pump his cock into her hand.

He almost collapsed onto the table in exhaustion when she withdrew her fingers from his ass, but at the last moment, he looked up at her and said quietly, "Thank you, Miss Jane."

She half-smiled at him, letting him know that he had done well. And then, without even raising her voice, she instructed him, "Clean your mess up from my table, get dressed, and get back to work. I hope this lesson will hold you until your next performance evaluation and your next training session."

He got up, grabbed tissues, and swabbed his cum from her table. He put on his clothes, gingerly, trying to avoid having his boxers rub his sore ass and moaning quietly when sliding his jeans on and feeling the rough material rub the welts through his boxers. He turned to her again, and quietly said, "Thank you, Miss Jane" before opening the door and stepping out into the main area.