Handy Handy Men

Chris & Jarrod Part I of II

As James left to join his new apprentices on site, I considered, as I reclined. Not unmanageable, but definitely left of center. My entire Building Division were ball ringed! Who could think up this shit?

I took note of the blinking icon on the desktop.

Why the fuck was there an Account Warning flashing in the banking app?

I opened and logged on.

“Chris,” I called to the Ops Office.

He appeared, with Josh bringing up the rear. He was white, Josh wasn’t much better.

“It’s a Monday, why is there still so much money in Account Four?” I asked, astonishingly calm.

* * *

Chris was responsible for payroll, I signed it off every fortnight, but he did all the nuts and bolts.

Every second Friday, like clockwork, all employees found their bank account plumped with funds from their hard work.

For what ever reason, last Friday’s pay run didn’t go through. What the fuck!

“Find out everything that happened,” I directed to Chris and Jarrod, standing to leave. “We will meet back here in one hour, to go through it. And, to plan what’s next.”

They nodded and returned to the office. I immediately went to the bank and withdrew three thousand in twenties.

* * *

“I missed hitting the confirm reconciliation button,” Chris explained as we met. “Without that step, everything just remained on hold.” I nodded, understanding.

“And, we don’t have a back-up process?” I asked.

“We do. I key in my authorization code,” answered Jarrod. I raised an eyebrow. That meant two systems had failed. “it’s just in five years, we’ve never used it.”

“So, no one got paid?”

They shook their heads. Fuck!

“What concerns me the most, is that almost the entire crew was in here this morning loading,” I observed, “and not one of them said anything.”

“What does that tell you?” I asked both.

They shrugged.

“At least for some of them, I think they will believe we couldn’t pay them.”

They both swallowed.

“This is going to take some time to repair.”

I began laying out the cash on my desk. Two hundred in each pile.

“Get some envelopes,” I directed.

When Josh returned, we put cash in each, then labelled the outside with the team member’s name.

“Take half each,” I instructed, “leave now. On each work-site, sit with every employee, one on one.”

“Make sure they are not stressed, this cash will get them through.” I continued. They nodded.

I looked out the window, to see Carl loading a truck.

“Cancel whatever you have planned for Carl today, give him his cash, and get him up here answering the phones.”

“We’ll meet back here at two.”

They nodded and were gone.

* * *

At two forty, the three of us sat at my desk.

A harried Carl, had expected to be relieved of his Ops coordination duties.

He was still on the phones.

We reviewed the feedback.

I had been right, three of the guys had told the managers, they were worried the company was going broke.

“It’s a huge fuck-up,” lamented Chris, wringing his hands.

“What now?” asked Jarrod.

“Now we make sure the payments are being processed tonight,” I started,

“They ar…” replied Chris, urgently, before I put my hand up to silence him.

“Then, we make sure this can’t happen again.”

“I’m so fucken sorry Boss,” offered Chris. Jarrod was nodding wildly beside him.

“Lets just get through this,” I replied, over the whole thing. “You’d better get out there, and let Carl go back to digging holes.” I suggested, “he’s made for that, not customer service.” They stood.

As Jarrod exited, Chris made to leave as well.

He stopped, looking directly at my old frat paddle. He held his gaze.

“Don’t even think about it.” I cautioned. He looked back to me. “If you lift that off the wall, it has to be used.”

He didn’t seem phased, and went to say something.

My hand stopped him for the second time in the last ten minutes.

“There’s a shit load of rituals around those things, especially the draw bag hanging off the handle.”

“You don’t mess with it, if you don’t understand it.”

He again stared at it. Then made his way back to his desk.

* * *

As soon as I walked into the office on Tuesday morning, Chris confirmed the payroll transfer had happened overnight. I had checked the balances at midnight to make sure that was the case. I didn’t mention that.

As I settled in behind my desk, I reflected both he and Jarrod still seemed a little on edge. Wouldn’t do them any harm, I decided. I logged in to look up Hank’s phone number. James would need him tomorrow.

“Yep,” I answered a light knock on my office door.

Chris came in, Jarrod stayed at the door-frame watching on.

The payroll manager walked straight to the frat paddle, removed it from it’s hook and sat it on my desk.

Ok then.

I stayed quiet for a half dozen extended heart beats.

“So, you’ve done your research?” I asked. he nodded.

“We both have,” answered Jarrod, still at the door. Chris scowled back at him.

Ok, there was misalignment then.

“So, you know what’s in this bag then?” I quizzed, as I reached forward and lifted the palm sized velvet sack off the handle.

“Yes, and because there’s only one,” Chris declared, “it will be on me.”

I stretched the drawstring open, and looked inside. I realized I hadn’t seen the device in probably a decade. Hadn’t been forced to wear it in maybe twenty plus years.

I upended the sack to see the cock cage tumble to my hand. It’s stainless steel, as shiny as ever.

“There’s always more than one,” I assured, “these things travel in pairs, for some reason,” I smiled.

I reached to the bottom desk draw, and took out the cage I had originally intended for Josh. We’d just never got around to playing with it.

I placed it beside its almost matching brother.

“That settles that then,” spoke Jarrod, now in the room, gazing down. Chris nodding at his side.

“Tell me how it all works,” I challenged, “now you’ve lifted it, its still going to happen. But, I’m keen to hear what you think you know.”

* * *

The last time it had been put to its actual use was when I’d attended Valley Nights Uni.

At nineteen, I was dumb enough to be desperate to join the biggest frat on campus.

I’d heard in following years, it had been disbanded, some sex slave scandal. I didn’t follow the details.

Anyway, if you made it to pledge, you had to make your own paddle.

The half dozen candidates had their arses beaten, and were then cock locked. The only way you could get out of the lock, was to agree to the same number of arse strikes you’d previously endured.

The first beating was the worst pain I had ever experienced. Avoiding a second round, kept me locked for six weeks. Eventually my overflowing balls won. For the second time, I couldn’t sit for a week.

* * *

Chris relayed his research, with Jarrod chipping in.

Chris was annoyed that Jarrod was even contemplating participating.

“It was all my doing,” he complained, “I was the one who fucked up.”

“Yes, you were,” I confirmed. “But, Jarrod neglected his authorization, regardless of how many times it had worked before.”

Jarrod simply nodded.

They had both missed one key detail. But now they had acted, they would be finding out anyway.

“Ok,” I acknowledged, “you’ve got the basics down.”

“So, here’s the big question,” I prepared, “how many?”

“Twelve,” answered Chris, instantly. Jarrod nodded, agreeing.

“That’s not happening,” I squashed.

Chris rose to object.

“Neither of you have any idea how painful a single bare arse strike is from that thing.” I pointed.

“Unfortunately, because I was dumb as a post, I do fucken know.” I affirmed.

“Twelve is not occurring.”

Chris looked frustrated.

“Three and six,” he attempted to negotiate.

I drew breath, appearing to consider.

“You,” I said, pointing to Chris, “four going in, five out.”

“You,” I nodded to Jarrod, “Three and three.”

Jarrod nodded, his approval. Chris agreed, his annoyance on display.

“So, we do this now?”” Chris asked, standing.

“I doubt it,” I said clearly.

They both looked at me.

“Strip,” I commanded.

They looked at each other, then in unison, pulled their polos over their heads. Then they dropped their pants and began stepping clear.

“Hold up,” I directed, “come back when there’s no hair below you chin longer than #1, and your junk is shaved bare.” I added.

They again looked at each other.

“You took that fucken thing off the wall,” I pointed to the resting paddle, “even though I told you not to.”

“You’re playing by its rules now,” I paused, “come back when you’re properly prepared.”

“Tomorrow at ten then,” insisted Chris.

“Friday at three thirty,” I countered, “you won’t be sitting for at least two, maybe three days.”

Chris nodded, resolute. Jarrod simply swallowed.

* * *

On Friday afternoon I had quietly checked the schedules. Everyone out had either finished for the day, or was going to land from four thirty onward. That worked.

When Chris knocked at three thirty sharp, I called them in and checked the phones were in divert.

“You can dump all your gear over there.” I directed, pointing to the side-board.

They did and returned to stand loosely in front.   

“You’re under frat rules,” I clarified, as I received two nods. “What happens in this room, stays in this room.”

I looked them up and down.

Chris sported four to five thick inches. His medium, now hairless balls, sat close up under his dick.

Jarrod was a clear five, maybe five and a half. His balls hung lower.

“In the matter of you fucking up payroll, how do you plead?” I asked, sticking to the formal rituals.

“Guilty,” they both parroted.

“And you fully accept the punishments agreed.” I posed, “no recourse.”

“I do,” each answered in turn.

From the desk, I picked up the paddle. It had been at rest between the two cock locks.

I handed each a bite stick. I think their reality dawned.

“You, over that end.” I pointed Chris to one end, “you,” I simply gestured to the other.

They lay down, facing each other. Chests to desktop, arses the perfect height for a beating.

“I suggest, you hold hands, you’re going to need it.” I foretold. They did, clearly nervous.

If nothing else, this would be bonding for them.

* * *

I stood behind Chris, widening my stance. I wound up, and released. I landed a perfectly flat strike, evenly across both his arse cheeks. He screamed the place down, shocking himself, Jarrod and even me, if only a little.

I moved to Jarrod, who wasn’t anywhere near as relaxed now. He took his first blow.

Tears were streaming down both their faces, neither could believe how bad it was. I took my time.

I walked to the opposite end, delivering Chris’s second. Jarrod took his, a full minute later.

As they were having an uneven number of strikes, I evened it up, with Chris’s third.

Now I took an extended break.

“Boss,” Chris croaked.

“Don’t say it Boy,” I intervened, quickly. Heading him off at the pass. “You’re in this, you’re not alone, you’ll make it through.”

He nodded, it took all his strength, but he nodded.

I looked to the other end of the desk. Jarrod matched his head bob.

I delivered their final blows.

They both screamed, and kept squealing. Eventually, they pushed themselves up from the desk top and danced around the room rubbing their arses as hard as they could.

As I knew would be the case, their rock-hard cocks were flung in every direction.

I gave them a minute.

“Kneel here, and here,” I barked, pointing to two spots in front of the desk.

They focused, and got to their knees.

“Work your cocks to blow,” I commanded, leaving no doubts I was serious.

They began jacking off. Slow at first, but as the distraction took hold, they pumped in a frenzy. Less than two minutes later they had made seed.

I looked them square in the eyes.

“Lick it up.” They paused for a second, trying to compute.

Then they bent.

“Each other’s,” I instructed.

I watched on as they licked their workmates seed from the boot trodden carpet.

They swallowed.

Job done; they sat back on their haunches.

I motioned Chris to stand, Jarrod stayed in place. They were both numbed out.

“Hands on your head,” I instructed, he complied.

I reached forward and took the boy’s cock in hand.

I gently cleaned his junk with a wet wipe, then fitted and adjusted his cock cage. It was exactly the right size.

It wasn’t coming off, he wasn’t getting hard, and he wasn’t going to unload anytime soon.

“Go and take a quick shower,” I directed, nodding to my office bathroom. Chris departed.

I fitted Jarrod, who as a little bit bigger, took some extra time.

In the end he was equally locked as his workmate.

Chris returned, still moist. Jarrod’s turn.

* * *

The shower had revived them, but they were still in shock.

“Lay chest down along here.” I said, pointing to the front of the desk.

Fear swept across their brows.

I stayed quiet.

When they were nervously in place, I took the Sorbiline Crème moisturiser from the side bench. I gently applied it to all four of the blazing red cheeks before me. They didn’t know it, but it would help enormously. It also soothed them mentally, and let them know, they weren’t alone.