Mrs Winstanley is hoping that her boss, the stern Rita Barcliff, will consider employing her nephew Tarquin. The troublesome lad has been causing his mother a lot of problems and it would do him good to be working in a highly disciplined environment. But there's one possible hitch - something in the boy's past that might prove to be a hurdle...

"Thank you for agreeing to see young Tarquin," says Mrs Winstanley enthusiastically, "I'm sure he'l be an asset to the company if given the chance."

Mrs Barcliff listens intently. Ordinarily she'd prefer a woman for the post but she's always ready to do a favour for her trusted members of staff.

"He's such a clever boy. And very smartly turned out too and went to an excellent school," the woman continues on, trying to build up her nephew.

"Unfortunately there was a ... well a... sort of a scandal and he had to drop out." Mrs Winstanley trails off. She doesn't want to hide anything from her boss - but worries his past behaviour will count against him.

"Oh?" Wonders Mrs Barcliff. Mrs Winstanley is dreading having to answer. "Um... it's a bit delicate... he was caught by the head teacher masturbating in the toilet," she says after a moments silence.

Mrs Barcliff is absolutely horrified!

Out in the main office, Tarquin has just arrived. He marches up to Farrah's desk and coughs loudly to get her attention.

"I'm Tarquin," he says in an condescending tone, "and I'm here about the clerk's job." Being a spoiled young man and going to a posh school he's used to talking down to people he feels are beneath him.

"Oh yes," replies Farrah coolly, "Mrs Winstanley's nephew. I believe Mrs Barcliff has kindly agreed to interview you."

She continues: "I just need to take down some details. For a start, what grades did you get in your exams?"

"Is this really necessary?" He cuts in rudely, "I mean this bank would be lucky to have someone of my calibre."

"I'm only here because my aunt said I had to come. People who went to my school shouldn't have to attend interviews," he boasts.

'What an arrogant little prick!' Thinks Farrah to herself as the young man before her shows off.

"I mean we both know, in a couple of years I'll be running this place! Then I'll be your boss. So you'd better be nice to me," he concludes.

"Oh really?" Says Farrah. She can't see Mrs Barcliff being very impressed with him. But as a favour to her friend Mrs Winstanley she resists the temptation to explain a few home truths.

"Masturbating? Caught by the head teacher? In the toilets?" Mrs Barcliff cannot believe what she is hearing. "I certainly don't want to employ a PERVERT!"

"Please," beseeches Mrs Winstanley, "give him a chance. That's all in the past. There won't be any of that carry on any more."

"Hmmm," replies Mrs Barcliff. "Well if he's arrived then I'll agree to interview him. But I'm making no promises about the job." She picks up the phone and calls Farrah.

"Yes, he's here," replies Farrah when asked about Tarquin, "I'll send him through to your office."

Back in Mrs Barcliff's office, Mrs Winstanley gets up to leave. It's all down to Tarquin now. She hopes he makes the effort - any nonsense and her boss will undoubtedly send him packing.

Mrs Barcliff turns back to her computer. She intends to grill the young man thoroughly to see if he genuinely has learnt the error of his ways.

Farrah turns to Tarquin. "You can go in now. And I suggest you check your attitude if you want to impress Mrs Barcliff," she says.

She stands up to send him on his way. "I'm sure I'll have the old bird eating out of the palm of my hand," says Tarquin confidently.

"We'll see. Anyway, her office is this way," Farrah says walking towards the corridor.

Farrah is shocked when the little sod grabs a handful of her arse as she walks by. Why the bare-faces cheek of it! She hopes that her boss sends this little arsehole away with a flea in his ear.

She points him in the right direction then scowls at his departing back, thinking of all the things she'd like to do to him to teach him a lesson.

Tarquin enters Mrs Barcliff's office and without waiting to be asked, takes a seat. He looks at her insolently.

"So, Tarquin," begins Mrs Barcliff, "I understand you're interested in the bank clerk position."

"To begin with maybe. But of course I don't expect to be in job that's beneath me for very long. I'm thinking something managerial in six months or so..." He starts.

"I see from your school report that your grades are somewhat lacking," says Mrs Barcliff looking at his CV.

"But I'm really good at sports and I'm the rugby team captain," he responds, "anyway - we both know grades don't really matter. It's all about the school you went to with a job like this."

Mrs Barcliff finds the lad smug and distasteful. But for Mrs Winstanley's sake perseveres. "Do you have a particular interest in banking?" She asks.

"Well daddy works in The City and he earns shed-loads of dosh. Which is exactly what I want to do," he replies.

"I mean let's face it, people from my background are born leaders. I'd be the best asset this bank could ever have."

Mrs Winstanley is surprised to see a look of consternation on her colleague's face and walks over to find out what's wrong.

"I know he's your nephew and everything," Farrah says, "but that Tarquin is a right cocky young man. He had the nerve to grab my arse!"

"Oh I am so sorry," says Mrs Winstanley ashamed and starts to worry about how the interview is going.

"And I hear you had to leave your prestigious school as you were caught... pleasuring yourself in the school toilets," says Mrs Barcliff accusingly.

"That's all behind me. I don't masturbate nor will I ever again. There's no need to worry about it," replies Tarquin smoothly.

"Oh yes?" Sais Mrs Barcliff suspiciously. "And just how long is it since you last committed such a sinful act?"

"Erm... Six months? Longer maybe," replies Tarquin - having no qualms about lying in order to get what he wants.

But Mrs Barcliff is no fool. "I'm not sure I believe you. You'll have to drop your trousers and pants so I can check," she instructs.

Suddenly all his bluster is gone. Tarquin is silenced and stares at the woman opposite him in disbelief. He is about to find out that his arrogance is no shield against the fearsome Mrs Barcliff who will stop at nothing to ensure the purity of her beloved bank.

Despite her reservations over Tarquin's chequered past, Rita Barcliff has agreed to meet him and see if he genuinely has learnt the error of his ways. He naively assumes that the job is automatically his but little does he realise that he's going to have to prove himself first. And the smile is wiped off his face when the woman insists he drop his trousers and pants.

Tarquin fidgets in his chair. He wasn't expecting this! He's a good mind to tell her to stuff the job. But deep down he knows that his mum would never forgive him if he did.

He reluctantly stands up and fumbles with his belt, starting to undo his trousers. He can feel the stern woman watching him intently.

He drops his trousers to the floor. How exactly does she mean to check if he's been masturbating or not?

He's never come across a woman as fierce as Mrs Barcliff before and he finds her a little scary.

He dawdles as long as he can but a loud cough from the woman behind the desk makes him hurry up.

It feels wrong to be getting his privates out in front of a complete stranger like this. Yet the bank manager has intimidated him in a way none of the teachers at school ever managed to.

Mrs Barcliff tuts. "For heaven's sake - I can't see anything!" She says angrily. "Lift your shirt up young man."

For once in his life Tarquin does as he's told and stands there presenting his penis and testicles for what he hopes will only be a visual inspection.

His heart sinks when the woman rises from her seat. Surely she can see what she needs from where she is?

He gulps as she makes her way around the desk towards him. Will she be able to tell that he's lying about when he last had a wank?

She stands right next to him and peers down and his genitals. Tarquin has another fear - one that jumps into his mind. What if he gets aroused in front of her?

To his utter horror, the woman reaches down between his legs...

...and cups his testicles in her hand, hefting them as though weighing them.

"Hmmmm," she says cryptically. He wishes he knew what she was thinking.

He bites his lip, trying desperately to control himself as the woman's delicate touch is starting to send little shivers of pleasure up his spine.

Mrs Barcliff kneels before him and continues her examination, oblivious to the effect she's having on him and his ever-thickening penis.

She raises his willy and peers at it, taking her time.

He can feel her fingers moving along the length of his shaft and he feels a tingling sensation deep inside.

He knows it's wrong to be thinking sexual thoughts about the woman but he cannot seem to control himself.

He expects her to notice how stiff his penis has become and shout at him. But instead she carries on with her inspection muttering to herself.

Mrs Barcliff checks his penis out from every angle very carefully. Tarquin hopes desperately she doesn't see anything that will make her question his honesty.

He starts to feel hot, standing there in the pokey office with his manhood being handled by the bank manager.

He cannot read her facial expression to tell whether she is satisfied or not. But he wishes she'd get a move on whatever as her actions are driving him wild.

He holds his breath as she rolls his foreskin back and forth across his sensitive glans.

He almost wishes she would wank him off and be done with it. What she is doing is starting to become unbearable.

After what feels like an age, Mrs Barcliff turns around. "It's no good," she says abruptly, "I can't see properly."

She lets go of his penis and he feels a moment of relief. She picks up the phone and makes a call. "Yes. Could you pop in? I've left my glasses at home," she says.

Tarquin feels himself flush. Who is she speaking to? The thought of anyone else coming into the room fills him with dread.

Despite not having clear vision, Mrs Barcliff resumes her examination of his genitals.

'If she couldn't see, why did she spend so long on it?' He wonders to himself.

The door opens and Mrs Winstanley walks in. Her eyes widen with surprise when she sees what's going on in the manager's office.

Tarquin is horrified to see his aunty stood in the doorway with her mouth open. He starts to feel sick to his stomach.

"Oh! Err. Mrs Barcliff, you asked for me?" Mrs Winstanley is uncertain exactly what is going on here.

"Your nephew here claims he hasn't masturbated for six months. I'm not sure I believe him so I've been checking for myself. But my reading glasses are at home so I can't be sure," explains Mrs Barcliff.

"Since you know the boy I thought you could take a look with me. See if there are any signs of self-abuse," she continues to Mrs Winstanley who is agog.

"Remove the rest of your clothes," instructs Mrs Barcliff without further ado.

Tarquin can feel her accusing gaze as he starts to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt.

Mrs Winstanley smiles to herself. Maybe this will teach the rude young man to respect his elders!

Tarquin starts to slide his shirt and blazer off. Even though his penis and testicles are already exposed, it somehow feels even worse having to take off the rest of his school uniform.

And in front of his auntie too! Will she tell his mother? He wishes she wasn't openly looking him up and down like that - it makes him feel strange.

Tarquin feels trapped between the two women. This is turning into the interview from hell! And who knows what will happen if Mrs Barcliff and his aunt do think he's been pleasuring himself when he shouldn't?

Tarquin has been silenced. The shock at having to take his clothes off and expose his genitals to the stern woman is terrifying - but Mrs Barcliff is insistent that he prove he hasn't been masturbating. And if that wasn't bad enough now his aunty, Mrs Winstanley, has been invited in to assist!

A much quieter Tarquin removes his shirt and blazer under the watchful gaze of Mrs Barcliff and his aunt.

Trickles of perspiration run down from his armpits as he puts them aside. He's never been this nervous before in his life.

He takes off his trousers and underwear, but can still feel the women staring at him.

Mrs Barcliff doesn't take her eyes off him. She doesn't trust Tarquin one little bit and wants to make sure he doesn't get up to any funny business.

The women loom over Tarquin as he fumbles to undo his shoelaces. He can feel their presence even when he's not looking at them.

He takes his shoes and socks off, shedding the very last of his clothing.

His face flushes as he puts them with the rest of his things. He knows he's under pressure to hurry up but nonetheless he tries to delay what's coming for as long as he can.

He stands there covering his privates as the two women edge closer to him.

His aunt smiles to herself as she looks at him. She's going to enjoy putting this little brat in his place!

"Move your hands out of the way," she instructs, raising her hand.

She smacks his hands aside so the women can get a proper look at his genitals.

Tarquin's arms fall limply to his side as he resigns himself to his fate.

"So," interjects Mrs Barcliff suddenly, "you claim that you haven't been rubbing on this thing and making hot white liquid come out of the end?"

"No Mrs Barcliff. I promise I haven't," he says in a small voice.

"The things these young people are getting up to these days!" Exclaims Mrs Winstanley. "Piercing their bodies, getting tattoos..."

"Even putting things up their poop-chutes!" Tarquin's face reddens at the things his aunt says. She shouldn't know about stuff like that!

Mrs Barcliff is incensed! To think - there could be young men and women out there right now doing such depraved things.

"And that's just the tip of the iceberg," concludes Mrs Winstanley - leaving the group in an uncomfortable silence once again.

"YOU HAD BETTER NOT EVEN CONSIDER DOING SUCH DISGUSTING ACTS IN MY PRESENCE YOUNG MAN!" Says Mrs Barcliff in a voice like thunder.

The women crouch down to resume the examination leaving Tarquin stunned. He feels like he's been accused of doing terrible things to his body - even though he has never even thought about putting things up his bottom.

"I can't see clearly," says Mrs Barcliff, displaying his penis to Mrs Winstanley. "Can you see any signs of chaffing from masturbation?"

Tarquin feels awfully embarrassed and ashamed at having his privates discussed like this. He hopes desperately that his moments of private pleasure haven't left any telltale signs on his penis.

The two women 'umm' and 'ahh', passing his penis and testicles between them, examining them closely.

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine he's somewhere else. But there's no escaping the predicament that he's in.

The longer it goes on though, the harder it is for him to put a stop to it. He can just imagine his aunt telling his mother how he showed himself up.

There's the very real danger she'd cut off his trust fund - leaving him to fend for himself!

He feels almost tearful as Mrs Barcliff and his aunt maul his bits and pieces.

It's agonising having to stand there and submit to such humiliation. But that's just what he must do - even though it's costing him dear.

"It's so difficult to tell isn't it?" Says Mrs Winstanley as she carefully evaluates her nephew's penis. "I think we need some more help," replies Mrs Barcliff.

She stands up and grabs the phone on her desk.

"Oh Farrah, could you come in and give us a hand?" She says.

Tarquin cannot believe it. Not only are they taking what he feels is an unnecessary amount of time to check him over, now they're asking someone else to come in and join them!

A moment later and there is a knock at the door. Tarquin tenses.

Farrah walks in and a look of astonishment appears on her face when she sees what her colleagues are up to.

Well there's a turn up for the books! Puritanical Mrs Barcliff and Mrs Winstanley freely handling the young man's cock and balls.

She cannot help but laugh. Tarquin upset her with the dismissive way he spoke to her. Not to mention grabbing her arse. Now it looks like it's his turn to be objectified!

"Mrs Winstanley and I are having difficulty ascertaining whether this boy has been pleasuring himself or not. There are no obvious signs of chaffing but we cannot be sure," explains Mrs Barcliff.

Farrah is far more worldly wise than the other two women. "What," she says, trying to contain her mirth, "you want to know if this little wanker has been wanking?"

"Well, I wouldn't quite use those terms. But yes. We need to know if he is being truthful or not. Would you be able to help us out?"

Sensing an opportunity for revenge, Farrah puts on her most polite voice:" Yes of course Mrs Barcliff. I see it as my duty to uphold the strict moral and ethical codes of this bank. So I'm more than happy to take hold of this young man's penis and testicles and check them over." Tarquin realises that things are about to get a whole lot worse...

A naked Tarquin stands quivering and surrounded by the women at the bank. Completely overwhelmed his confidence has left him. He wishes they would all just leave him alone - but they seem obsessed with toying with his genitals. The agonising minutes seem to drag by as the women discuss his privates in great detail.

Farrah bounds over joyfully, ready to make the arrogant lad even more uncomfortable. Tarquin looks away - aware that he didn't exactly create a good impression when they met before.

"Hmmm," says Farrah as she runs a finger along the length of his penis.

He can feel the pressure of her finger on his cock and starts to feel aroused again.

"Let's see..." continues the woman - as though it were perfectly normal to be handling a young man's penis like this.

She can feel him becoming harder in her grip as she roughly moves his bits and pieces about.

"I'm not sure," she says after a while, "can you see anything Betty?"

"See here... this could be a sign of self abuse," Farrah shows a slight mark to Mrs Winstanley.

She looks up at the boy to see his reaction and is satisfied to see him blush.

Mrs Winstanley smiles as he watches her colleague inspect her nephew's penis.

Tarquin wonders why his aunt doesn't say something to stop this.

But little does he know that she thinks It's about time the cocky young man was put in his place.

"He appears to be becoming erect," says Farrah accusingly.

Tarquin's face reddens even more. He tries his hardest to fight the sensations coursing through his body - but there isn't anything he can do.

His aunty takes hold of him and slides his foreskin back. "Oh yes - I can see what you mean," she says.

"You really should have greater self control Tarquin," she admonishes.

The women peer closely at the glistening end of the boy's penis. "I'm very much afraid," says Farrah eventually, "that his penis shows signs of chronic rubbing."

"Do you agree Betty?" She asks, and to Tarquin's shock, his aunt agrees with her.

"He's clearly been masturbating an awful lot. And very recently I'd say by the looks of things," says Mrs Winstanley.

Tarquin tries to protest. He can feel Mrs Barcliff's eyes boring into his very soul.

Farrah and Mrs Winstanley let his penis drop. "Well I can't say I'm surprised," says Mrs Barcliff. "And I bet that's not all he's been getting up to."

"I think there's every possibility he's been taking part in other disgusting acts like you said Mrs Winstanley," she continues.

She grabs Tarquin by the penis and pulls him towards her. "We need to check if he's been putting things up his bottom!" She announces to his horror.

"No! No! I haven't!" He cries out but the woman ignores him, leading him over to the desk.

Mrs Barcliff makes him climb up onto the desk, a look of distaste on her face. They'll find the truth of the matter one way or the other!

Farrah and Mrs Winstanley crowd around Tarquin's backside.

"Now then. Let's take a look," says Mrs Barcliff, placing a hand on Tarquin's bum and pulling his arse cheeks apart.

"From the outside it doesn't look like it's been stretched," she says and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"But I'll need to check internally to be sure," the woman explains and Tarquin's relief turns to anguish.

Mrs Barcliff rams her finger into Tarquin's rectum without further ado.

She can feel a tightness as he clenches but she merely uses more pressure to get it all the way in.

"Owwww!" Howls Tarquin in pain. He wasn't expecting it to hurt so much!

Farrah has seized hold of his penis and strokes it - seeking to tease him even more.

Mrs Barcliff feels around inside the boy's anal cavity.

She slides her finger in and out as she does so - effectively fucking him.

Tarquin is in turmoil. Between the pain of being penetrated and the pleasure of having his penis tugged he doesn't know if he's coming or going.

Mrs Barcliff relentlessly jams her finger into his bottom and pulls it out again as Farrah stimulates his penis.

The stern woman is getting a certain satisfaction from the cries of pain coming from the lad. She believes firm discipline is the quickest path to The Lord.

But one finger isn't enough for her to tell whether Tarquin has been abusing himself, so she decides to try with two.

It takes all her strength but she manages to get both digits inside the lad.

Poor Tarquin tries to stifle the swearword that he feels a powerful urge to blurt out. This has been the worst day of his entire life! Never before has he felt so helpless and degraded. Nonetheless his fear of Mrs Barcliff keeps him firmly rooted to the spot...

Tarquin has been changed by his experiences in Mrs Barcliff's office. Previously he thought the world owed him a living and that he could behave just as he pleased. But having been made to strip stark naked and submit to an intimate examination, his entire personality has changed. Now a snivelling shadow of his former self he can do nothing but accept his fate at the hands of the stern bank manager.

Mrs Barcliff plunges her fingers into Tarquin's anus repeatedly - determined to see if there is any evidence of unnatural behaviour.

Farrah meanwhile is teasing the helpless young lad - caressing his penis to drive him into a frenzy.

Silence falls as the women conduct their examination - the outcome of which will determine Tarquin's future.

Mrs Barcliff jerks her digits in and out roughly, unconcerned for the pain she is causing the young man.

Being highly moral she is shocked to learn that some young people put things where they shouldn't.

While her colleague stimulates his penis, she feels around inside his rectum to see if Tarquin is one such depraved individual.

Tarquin gasps in agony as his arse is plundered and his penis manhandled.

His bottom feels like it's being split in two. Yet at the same time, there is a pleasurable sensation building in his groin as Farrah wanks him.

Mrs Winstanley is concerned that her nephew might embarrass her even further by confirming Mrs Barcliffs worst fears.

She dislikes the lad but worries it might reflect badly on her and her position at the bank.

Farrah on the other hand cannot help but grin. When this little dickhead talked down to her and groped her arse he would never have expected she would get her revenge.

She can see that Mrs Barcliff is focussed on what she is doing so is unaware of what's going on between Tarquin's legs.

But Tarquin is more than aware. Despite how much his backside hurts, Farrah's actions are starting to overwhelm him.

Farrah looks down as she hears him moan softly - more in pleasure than in pain. It looks like her plan is working.

"Hey," she says, "keep quiet down there. You'll disturb Mrs Barcliff in her very important work. You do want this job don't you?"

She speeds up and the job becomes the last thing on his mind.

Farrah realises something is starting to happen with Tarquin's penis.

"Erm... Betty," she says, "I think your nephew might be about to have an accident."

With sweat glistening on his face, Tarquin feels a sudden rush from between his legs that takes him over completely.

Farrah and Mrs Winstanley look between Tarquin's legs to see what's going on. Mrs Barcliff is too wrapped up in what she is doing to realise that something is amiss.

Tarquin explodes, ejaculating all over the desk.

His semen splashes all over Mrs Barcliff's mouse and jotter.

Even though he knows it's wrong there is nothing the boy can do to stop himself from spraying everywhere.

And with all the tensions inside him finally getting release, he momentarily doesn't care about anything else.

As his testicles drain he experiences an orgasm more intense than any he's ever known.

But he knows there will be hell to pay and his feeling of satisfaction is short-lived.

"Ugh! How disgusting!" Exclaims Farrah. "What is it?" Asks Mrs Barcliff, withdrawing her fingers.

"I can't say," continues Farrah - feigning shock , "this... this boy has just... messed himself."

"What?" Says Mrs Bacliff, her voice like thunder as Tarquin cowers on the desk.

"GET UP YOU ANIMAL!" She barks and the boy painfully clambers down off her desk.

"So," she says sternly, "it's just as I thought. You are hopelessly obsessed with your private parts. Such a person is definitely NOT suitable for a post in my bank."

"Now get out of my sight. I never want to see you again. And rest assured, I shall be writing to your mother about this incident."

A beaten and dejected Tarquin shuffles away - aware that his inability to control himself will have far reaching consequences.

Mrs Barcliff watches him go with a scowl on her face. Mrs Winstanley covers her mouth in shame.

Mrs Barcliff looks down at the sticky mess all over her desk.

"And how am I supposed to explain this to the cleaners?" She wonders aloud.

She looks angrily at the departing boy's back. "Oh Mrs Barcliff, I cannot apologise enough for my nephew's behaviour today," says Mrs Winstanley.

"I don't hold you responsible Betty. But that young man clearly needs some kind of professional help," replies Mrs Barcliff, softening her tone a little.

"Yes! Yes! I agree completely - something must be done about him. But what?" Asks Mrs Winstanley.

"Well there is a place where boys like Tarquin can be sent to... He'll be supervised 24 hours a day and won't be allowed to touch himself inappropriately ever again. It will be the best thing for him! I'll get you the address." So saying, Mrs Barcliff seals Tarquin's fate - happy in the knowledge that there will be one less impure degenerate out there to offend her sensibilities.

A Harsh Lesson in Morality