Phillips and Rogers: The Waiting Game: Part One

During the course of their first year at university, Phillips and Rogers had managed to overspend to such an extent that they needed to find some way of earning as much money as possible during their long summer vacation. Thus it was that the two young penniless students found themselves as trainee waiters in a sea-side hotel. They had not met up with each other for several months, and the opportunity to spend most of the summer vacation working together and sharing the same sleeping accommodation, excited them. There would be plenty of time to chat and enjoy each other's company, and maybe do the odd bit of waiting at tables in between. It was going to be paradise!

Full of joyful optimism, our two delightful young students, the product of the renowned Tuketon College, where every ounce of learning and correct behaviour had been well and truly beaten into them, arrived at The Manor House Hotel, Sleasetown by the Sea, to report to the Head Waiter, a former Royal Marine, called Mr. McNeil. Not a man to suffer fools gladly – especially young students – he greeted them coolly and immediately determined that here were two young lads who would require very strict supervision and a taste of good old Royal Marine Discipline. After all, he had not been in charge of young raw recruits in the Royal Marines without learning a thing or two about how to discipline young lads – especially young students.

After showing them to their sleeping quarters on the very top floor of the hotel, and allowing them just enough time to dump their baggage to unpack later, his first task was to fit them out with regulation waiters' uniform: crisp white shirts, black bow ties and the obligatory tight black bum-freezer trousers worn by all self-respecting waiters, especially in hotels like The Manor House Hotel in Sleasetown by the Sea. Under his intensively watchful gaze, the two lads were obliged to strip down to their briefs and try on various items of the uniform until the Head Waiter was satisfied with the “end” result. The result being that both Phillips and Rogers were encased in the tightest and most revealing trousers they had ever worn – and that, by 6th former' standards at Tuketon College, meant VERY tight.

Conscious of the extent to which every contour and bulge of their lower bodies was accentuated by their regulation waiters' uniform, Phillips and Rogers were led to the Dining Room by their new boss for their first lesson in setting tables for the evening meal. They were shown how to spread the table cloth correctly and neatly over the table, and then select and place the cutlery, glasses, serviettes and condiments with exact precision, aided by a 24“wooden measuring rule. It was made very clear that any table found to be not up to the required standard would lead to serious repercussions. Everything had to be exactly as required, and at the end of the afternoon all 20 tables would be inspected by the Head Waiter himself. Thus our two trusty lads were left to discover the delights of working in a top class hotel as trainee waiters.

Initially daunted by the task before them, and hindered by the lack of mobility caused by their very tight waiters' trousers , Phillips and Rogers set about their duties with enthusiasm. They very much wanted to please their new boss, Mr McNeil, who was clearly not man to be trifled with. Something told them that he was a man who knew how to exercise authority and impose his demands on young trainees as well as on raw recruits. But boys will boys; students will be students, and Phillips and Roger will always be Philips and Rogers!

The novelty of the situation, together with the hilarious sight they each had of each other in their ridiculously tight trousers, very quickly broke through the decorum which they had sought to maintain in their work. Rogers, who had opted to be in charge of the wooden measuring rule, and who just could not keep his eyes off the provocatively sensuous movements of Phillips' delightful shapely buttocks, which were made even more prominent by the smooth, close fitting material of his trousers, took the first step towards the ensuing chaos. As Phillips leaned over the table to place the condiments in the centre as instructed, his pal swung a well aimed swipe with the wooden rule across the inviting backside. The stinging impact and the force of the swipe combined to send Phillips sprawling across the table, and tipping the table over.

Glasses, cutlery, condiments and a vase of flowers bounced all over the floor. Broken glass scattered everywhere; knives, forks and spoons skidded at great speed across the polished floor; water splashed from the broken vase over an adjacent table, soaking the side of the table cloth; and the noise summoned the immediate appearance of the rest of the Dining Room Staff as well as the Head Waiter who just happened to be observing their progress from behind a partially closed door.

From a vantage point behind an open door, Mr McNeil had been watching the two trainee waiters with increasing pleasure as he drank in the alluring vision of their youthful, well-formed buttocks moving provocatively from table to table. He watched with even greater enthusiasm as he saw Rogers take aim with the wooden rule and land it fair and square across Phillips' arse as he presented the perfect target – his long straight legs apart and his backside superbly presented to receive appropriate punishment. As he watched the young trainee's reaction to the impact of the wooden rule and heard the surprised yelp of pain, memories of similar reactions flashed through his mind – memories of young raw recruits who had often opted to bend over in tight fitting PE shorts for “unofficial” punishment administered in the privacy of his office in the Marine barracks. How he would have relished the opportunity to have these two young students as new recruits. But their status was really immaterial – recruits or trainee waiters, they were under his command, and he had the upper, strong right hand!

As broken glass continued to bounce across the polished floor, and water continued to drip from the sides of a table; as the two young trainee waiters froze in fearful anticipation of being discovered in this state of chaos, the Head Waiter descended on them like a streak of lightening. His anger was terrifying. Rogers and Phillips, still dazed by the consequences of a brief moment's foolishness, and sensing that the anger would result in even more embarrassing consequences for them, waited with all too familiar dread to learn their fate. Feverishly trying to reduce any further escalation of the damage already caused, they scuttled around in ever decreasing circles picking up remnants of glasses, items of cutlery, pepper and salt containers, until the parade-ground command brought them hastily and perspiring to their feet.

“Stay where you are!”

“Within a few hours of arriving here, you have managed to wreak more damage than any other members of staff who have worked here for years! And all because one of you could not resist the other one's backside! Well, we will see how both of your backsides respond to some traditional discipline later in my office when you have cleared up this mess and completed the task you were given. Let me make this perfectly clear to you both, if you have not set EVERY single table – all 20 of them – to my required standards, your backsides will experience a double dose of what I have in store for you! Get back to work, and when you have finished, get your sorry selves to my office immediately you have finished.”

Almost two hours later, the two nervous trainee waiters made their way to the Head Waiter's office; knocked cautiously on his door and waited to be admitted. They shuffled in in an attitude of exaggerated penitence calculated to minimise whatever penalty they faced. Their hopes, however, were soon to be dashed. The Head Waiter kept them waiting in suspense while he left his office and went to inspect their work in the Dining Room. His eventual return heightened the already unbearable agony of suspense which had gripped the two students. Left to contemplate their potential fate while the inspection was taking place, they had both experienced a severe case of “deja vu”. Memories of similar waits outside studies and gyms at Tuketon College haunted them, and the spectre of a repeat performance loomed alarmingly greater as each moment passed. At last the Head Waiter was back, but the look on his face gave nothing away. The suspense continued, and was prolonged even further.

“Right you two – we are going to my private apartments to get this sorted out. At the far end of the grounds you will see the cottage which is my own private space, as they say! I will expect you to be outside my front door in exactly 30 minutes time, after you have gone back to your quarters to shower and tidy yourselves up ready to go on duty for the evening meal at 6.00pm. I would advise you not to be late!”

In the tightening grip of anxious suspense, and in complete stunned silence, Phillips and Rogers made their way to their room on the top floor of the hotel. Twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, spruced up with fresh clean white shirts and the obligatory tight black trousers, they headed towards the cottage at the far end of the grounds, where their boss awaited them. Once again, his face betrayed no indication of what might be in store for them, but both lads became more and more aware of the notable physical superiority of this man who was about to deal with them in the way he had dealt with many a young raw recruit in the Royal Marines. His broad, strong hairy chest was displayed under his open neck shirt; his firm thighs, outlined by the close fitting material of his uniform trousers, accentuated the sensual compactness of his buttocks and the prominent display of his manhood. “Sports Master... vaulting horse... slipper.. cane..” were some of the words which sped through the minds of both lads as they stood in front of him. A sixth sense told them that this was shaping up to be “Tuketon Re-Visited.”

With little time wasted, the Head Waiter outlined the options facing his new trainee waiters: lose their jobs with immediate effect or accept his authority and submit to “raw recruit” discipline. As though on automatic pilot, both lads immediately and without the slightest hesitation opted for the latter. Giving them no possible chance of changing their minds, the Head Waiter initiated proceedings. A large, very flexible plimsol was produced and Rogers, being the initial cause of the fiasco in the Dining Room was instructed to “adopt a suitable position”. Meekly, almost willingly, Rogers stepped forward, bent over the back of strong wooden chair which had been conveniently placed in the middle of the room, spread his leg apart, gripped the seat of the chair and stared straight ahead. The familiarity of the position evoked many memories which, for some strange reason, were stoking the fire down below. The sheer relief of not losing his job on the very first day, galvanised him for whatever painful encounter he was about to have with the Head Waiter's flexible friend.

Motioning Phillips to one side, Mr McNeil began to demonstrate his CP skills. He stood back to assess the target, which clearly and visibly pleased him. As the unmissable bulge at the front of his trousers increased, he flexed the plimsol, took aim, stepped back onto his right leg and lunging forward, swung the slipper across the pert buttocks outlined in the tight fitting waiter's trousers. The force of the impact sent Rogers toppling over the back of the chair as an involuntary gasp of protest escaped from him. “Aargh! Oh please sir! Please sir!..”

A second equally forceful and expertly aimed impact stifled the young waiter's litany of supplication, causing him to lose control of his legs as they flailed around behind him. A succession of demonic descents increased the gyrating contortions which took over the young student's entire body. His buttocks vibrated and wobbled like moulded jelly; his knuckles turned white with the effort of hanging onto the seat of the chair; his throat hurt with the suppression of cries and his breath came in gulping gasps as the slippering reached its climax and the effects of 12 swipes blazed their way over and around his backside

As he watched his friend's ordeal, conscious that this was a demonstration of what he could expect, Phillips' excited anticipation rose; the colour in his cheeks rose, and his undercarriage rose. Sympathy for his friend; anxiety for himself; admiration for the Head Waiter's indisputable skill , combined to awake in him the now familiar sensations of pleasure and pain which had become an integral part of the various spanking, slipperings and canings which he had encountered, both while at Tuketon College, and more noticeably since leaving the college. Like his friend, who was now struggling to his feet and desperately seeking to assuage the anger of his raging buttocks, young Phillips was so relieved that he had not been immediately dismissed from his job, that he was willing to bend over for ANYTHING – however severe – especially if it was being handed out by this handsome hunk.

Finding himself bending over the very same chair, hands gripping the warm edge of the seat where Rogers' hands had been, Phillips was not to be disappointed. After a long pause during which distance was carefully calculated, the correct stance adopted and the fulsome, highly desirable buttocks appraised, the plimsol made its enthusiastic acquaintance with the young waiter's backside. A repeat performance of flailing legs, gulped gasps, stifled cries and wrestling matches with the seat of the chair ensued as another 12 ferociously administered thwacks rained down on the student's arse. The raging fire which was stoked up across his backside surprised even Phillips, who, as we all now know, was no stranger to virtually the entire range of Corporal Punishment. Such was the impact that, by the end of his punishment, he was slumped over the chair in a state of utter weakness and indescribable pain; his ego had been demolished and his undercarriage had shrunk to a virtually invisible state; and the previously pleasant, exciting tightness of his waiter's trousers had become an almost unbearable pressure on his heaving buttocks.

Rising from his submissive position, Phillips joined his friend in nursing his backside as they both waited to hear what further penalty, if any ,they would be paying for their stupidity. The plimsol had been laid to rest on a nearby table, but the Head Waiter, his eyes gleaming with undisguised satisfaction, was continuing to glare at them. Would there be more of the same? Would the next stage mean that tight trousers would be released to drop to the floor and....? In their less excited state, the prospect of any further punishment from this man, who clearly meant business, did not bear thinking about. And they had a full evening of Dining Room duties to complete with every possibility of some new slip up which would almost certainly lead to another visit to the cottage in the grounds. Somehow, both lads sensed that a pattern had been set and that for as long as they remained employed as trainee waiters under the supervision of Mr. McNeil at The Manor House Hotel, Sleasetown by the Sea, they would relive many of their Tuketon College disciplinary experiences.

That evening our two young heroes completed their duties with infinite care and attention, but as they served soup which was as hot as their backsides, they both knew that this was only the first day in the job, and there were six long weeks ahead.

To be continued